


Mirror of Mars

by narkao (sophluorescent)



Series: Mars Verse [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Space, Character Death, Cloning and Resurrection, Cryogenics, Degrading Language, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Panic Attacks, References to Prostitution, Threesome - M/M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, injury aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophluorescent/pseuds/narkao
Summary: Minseok’s silent. Only now does he return to Baekhyun’s proposition. “I can do that for you. If you’re both mine?”Baekhyun’s memory flits back to the promise. He’d wanted the world. He’d wanted Minseok. But people just don’t get what they want.“We’re yours.”
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Byun Baekhyun, Byun Baekhyun/Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongdae | Chen, Minor Byun Baekhyun/Byun Baëkhyun/Kim Minseok | Xiumin, Minor Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin - Relationship
Series: Mars Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687231
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the parent work of [Eros Unrequited.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23453668) You **do not have to read Eros to understand this work** , and in fact, should probably read this one before Eros (if you haven’t read it already)! 
> 
> The only editing it has seen is my own eye—so there are bound to be mistakes I’ve missed. If you see something glaring, feel free to let me know, but otherwise, I’ll give it a more indepth beta later on! 
> 
> Please pay attention to warnings! Pretty much everyone here has questionable ethics, and they’re not always nice to one another. Make sure you’re comfortable with the tags before reading, and do let me know if you think a tag should be added.
> 
> If you enjoy, please do let me know via comments or kudos, or even on twitter (which will be linked at the end notes). I'd love to hear what you think ❤︎

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art you'll see featured in this chapter was commissioned from [veramalanava!](https://twitter.com/veramalanava) I highly recommend them—they were a joy to work with! You can find the full illustration here: [[click me]](https://ibb.co/XxpFvsR)

**~5000 CE, Dulcinea’s Orbit**

Cervantes Solar System, Delphinus Star Cluster

“It’s good to be home,” Baekhyun remarks, his gaze flicking up to meet that of his manager’s. Taeyeon gives him a level-look, but it’s an agreeable one. She’s similarly gladdened to be back—touring is, after all, a hellish experience in the best of ways. Baekhyun adores performing across the Delphinus Cluster (which has expanded at such a point that it includes stars beyond its constellation), but, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t wear him out. For all the positives like meeting fans, trying new foods, experiencing new cultures, and delving into new music while he travels, there are also the impossible schedules, the daysand nights spent aboard his shuttle, and all the other complications that arise from inter-planetary planning.

“You’re not off the schedule yet,” Taeyeon reminds, a few seconds later. Both of them have returned their attention to the porthole. They’re close enough to the planet’s surface now that they can see the crowd that’s waiting for him just outside the shuttle dock. “Don’t forget you have a performance tomorrow evening. The grand finale.”

Indeed. _The_ _Exhibition_ is coming to an end. And, like Taeyeon’s said, it’s a grand one in his home city of Dulcibella—Planetary Capital of Dulcinea, International Hub for the Delphini Cluster. The media’s already calling it a record-breaking crowd what with the Capital Dome having sold out at max-capacity and projections that crowds will form in the pavilion outside of the Dome, watching on the massive screens outside. The thought of it all gives Baekhyun’s ego a hefty dose of pride. The feeling warms his entire body and excitement thrums under his skin.

He nods, fiddling with the sleeve of his silken shirt, “I could never forget,” he says easily. His eyes glint arrogantly—he knows Taeyeon wants to chide him (she’s never liked hubris), but she holds her tongue. “Besides, I have at _least_ tonight to go back to my usual debauchery.”

“You should rest for tomorrow, Baekhyun,” she says, rolling her eyes. “The set is more complicated than the last stops have been. You need to be able to navigate it safely.”

“I’ll rehearse diligently,” he placates. “Everything will be all right,” he continues, “I’ve got good reflexes.”

Taeyeon looks like she wants to argue. Not everything can be dodged, and if he’s not familiar with the stage setup he _could_ get hurt. But, he’s really not concerned. It’s been fifteen years already and he’s been just fine performing on little sleep. The excitement makes it too hard to get any shut eye anyways.

He redirects the conversation, “I think I’ll go see Kim. He’s always _so_ interesting,” he practically purrs.

Now, Taeyeon’s looking at him with a deadened, bored look. Fair enough. She’s never liked Kim Minseok all that much. Doesn’t seem to understand the adrenaline that comes with getting involved with someone _dangerous_. To each their own. “Kim Minseok is an awful influence on you.”

“Kim Minseok inspired all the pretty, dark, little tunes on my latest album,” Baekhyun counters. “He made you lots of money, _Lassie_.”

“Call me that again and I’ll rearrange your face,” Taeyeon threatens monotonously.

Baekhyun snorts, “Then we won’t be making _any_ money.”

“There’s plenty of lovely doctors who could put you back together.”

“I’d rather not go through the trauma,” Baekhyun continues easily. “ _Anyways,_ back to Minseok, I’ve still got him wrapped around this darling finger of mine,” Baekhyun teases, accentuating his words with a waggle of his pointer finger. “I think I’ll propose an arrangement soon,” he reasons.

Taeyeon grimaces, “I manage a singer, not a prostitute.”

“Is it really prostitution?” Baekhyun questions, tapping his chin. “He won’t be _paying_ me. I have enough money already.”

“Then what do you hope to get out of it, Baekhyun? You just called it an _arrangement_. If you just want to sleep with him, you could have chosen any other word and made it sound less suggestive.”

“Oh, well I _do_ want to get something out of it besides the sex, but I’m not sure what that something is… yet. I plan on figuring that out tonight. Or maybe after the show? I haven’t decided,” he chews his lip thoughtfully. “ _Hell_ , I might just keep toying with him. It’s fun.”

“It’s cruel,” Taeyeon says, gathering her bags up. The spaceship jolts. They’ve docked, but they still have a few minutes of leeway before they’ll actually be allowed to disembark.

“I thought you didn’t like him?” Baekhyun says, gulping down the last of his bubbly liquor and setting the glass in its compartment.

“I don’t, but I can still pity him,” Taeyeon snipes, standing up to go wake the rest of the aides and the security team. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, yawning, and stands up, stretching his arms above his head and popping his back. He sighs, satisfied, and watches as the shuttle door is opened, letting in a solid rectangle of silvery Dulcinean sunlight.

Already, he can hear the murmur of the crowd outside. It’s refreshing. He _thrives_ under the attention.

He puts on his sunglasses, their rosy tint helping to diffuse the blue-light outside, and picks up his comm, sliding it into his pocket. Then, he’s walking outside, silver light illuminating him as he walks down the temporary staircase, down onto the landing platform. Taeyeon’s at his heels, already reminding security of their duty to keep fans off his back, out of his space. Safety is always a priority in situations like this, where he’s in close contact with his supporters, and security takes it seriously, fanning around him in a protective circle.

But Baekhyun’s nothing if not a lenient celebrity. He’s personable, charismatic, and so, he stops often, collecting letters and chatting with the people on the observation deck. And the crowd swells with cheer, happy to be in close proximity to him, even if his gaze doesn’t fall on them.

The huvtransit waits at the end of the gaggle of fans. Since it floats in its bay, it cannot be surrounded, so once he’s inside, he’ll be free to leave, but security still stands close to it. Obviously ready to keep anyone from getting in the way of the hovering mini-shuttle or from hurting themselves in the vehicle’s bay.

Baekhyun thanks them as he gets into the car, waving at them gratefully, and then waving at his fans.

Taeyeon gets in beside him and the door shuts. Their huvtransit is expensive enough that as soon as the door is shut and sealed, no sound permeates it. Baekhyun immediately sinks into his seat. Once again he thinks: _he’s glad to be home_.

***

Hours later, he’s back in the huvtransit, riding along as it whisks him through Dulcibella’s crowded, advertisement-laden streets. He makes small-talk with the driver, who seems pleasantly surprised that Baekhyun would even talk to him, up until they pull up outside Paradigm Tower. The building rises up sky high, with a great number of futuristic arches and landings that make the building an architectural feat.

It’s also the most expensive rent in the city. A rent not even Baekhyun wants to pay. He’s perfectly comfortable in his own Capital Tower. And it’s this fact that draws him to Minseok. At least, it was what _started_ Baekhyun’s attraction to the other man.

Because, really, when it comes down to it—money _does_ matter. _Status_ matters just as much, which is why, even if Baekhyun will play the dirty dance with Minseok, he’ll never openly associate with the other man. He’s not a fool. He knows the rumors.

“Thank you for driving me,” he murmurs to the driver, his voice a sultry purr. “I’ve wired your tip to your comm,” he continues. “Be back in… mhm, let’s say six hours. Just ping me when you arrive,” he directs, waving at the driver before he slams his door and walks the few short steps into Paradigm.

Security looks his way, but no one’s going to stop him. Baekhyun’s face is plastered to billboards around here. They don’t want to cause him any trouble. They key him into the lift, where he enters the access code that’ll deliver him to Minseok’s suite.

While he ascends, he takes stock of his appearance in the mirror. He’s got a healthy glitter to his pale skin thanks to the naps he’d taken on the shuttle into Dulcinea and back at his own flat, and his eyes glitter playfully. His white hair is braided (messily, loosely), and draped over his shoulder. His shirt accentuates the broadness of his shoulders and the pants he wears cling to the curve of his waist.

Minseok really doesn’t stand a chance.

But, he puts up a fight. When the elevator doors open, revealing the suite, he’s sat in a plush, velvet love seat, his legs spread open, feet planted on the floor. There’s a bottle of liquor on the table next to the arm of the couch and two glasses next to it.

Minseok’s gaze flicks up from his comm, illuminated by the soft pink glow of the screen, and finds Baekhyun. “I had a feeling you’d visit,” he murmurs, lips quirking into a half-grin. It’s unreasonably sexy on him.

Baekhyun grins, “How could I resist?” he teases. He toes of his shoes, then, instead of heading right into Minseok’s lap, he walks over to the bar and the kitchen island, setting down his comm and walking over to the fridge.

Minseok knows his tastes well, Baekhyun notices with delight, taking out the box of imported, Earthen strawberries and popping the top. He can hear Minseok’s breathless, easy laugh from his spot in the lounge, but pays it no mind as he transfers a handful of the sugared treats into a bowl and returns the box to the fridge.

Only then does he approach Minseok, situating himself so that his legs are draped over the opposite arm of the love seat, and his head and back perch languidly atop Minseok’s lap. He holds out a strawberry for Minseok to eat, and Minseok returns the favor.

“How was touring?” Minseok asks. Baekhyun’s not sure if Minseok really cares (again, he’s fairly sure Minseok and he’s only shared interest is getting into one another’s pants) or if he’s just trying to flatter, but Baekhyun easily launches into a retelling of his travels.

“Arion was probably my favorite stop,” he relates, “It’s like… the _pinnacle_ of music in the Musica System. Really, it could probably go head to head with the other Delphini systems. It’s _that_ impressive.”

“You should get an away-home there,” Minseok suggests, gaze cloudy. His attention’s elsewhere, but he still feeds Baekhyun on auto-pilot, his other hand massaging Baekhyun’s thigh mindlessly.

“Mhm, _too_ expensive for me. At least, all of the good spots. And Arion musicians are _so_ pretentious and fake.”

Minseok hums, “If you want a place there, I can always buy you one.” Every time they meet, Minseok offers him something that he thinks Baekhyun will appreciate. But, Baekhyun’s not about to play with debts quite yet. Not with Kim Minseok.

“With nothing in return?” Baekhyun teases.

Minseok shakes his head, “Ah-ah, I never said _that_ ,” he chides. Baekhyun pouts, but he’d expected that answer. It’s familiar. Helps him feel more secure in this environment. Like he understands Minseok and therefore can’t be manipulated by him.

“Then what could you possibly want for it?” Baekhyun murmurs, rearranging himself so that he sits more fully in Minseok’s lap, his lips just barely mouthing at the other man’s throat. “What can _I_ give you that you can’t already buy?” He continues, biting Minseok’s earlobe.

“You,” Minseok says easily.

Baekhyun tuts his tongue. “I think you have a kink for species not your own,” Baekhyun redirects, “I think just last week I was reading about you and some _Cephila_ getting photographed together.”

“Perhaps,” Minseok agrees. He’s a curious human. It’s part of the reason Baekhyun’s so attracted to him. Why Baekhyun wants to break him down, open him up. Baekhyun wants to _know_ him. “Though, in my humble opinion, Dulcis are the prettiest aliens. The sweetest too. Kisses that’ll rot your teeth.” He brushes the tip of his thumb against Baekhyun’s lips.

“Dulcis look like humans,” Baekhyun mutters.

“Until they go somewhere without silver light,” Minseok agrees. Baekhyun rolls his eyes and wraps his fingers around Minseok’s wrist, the points of his nails digging into his skin just so. Minseok’s heart quickens, beating impossibly loud. And this makes Baekhyun grin, because his body will never betray just how attracted he is to this human. Not like Minseok’s betrays him, revealing he’s far more affected than he lets on.

But, back to their earlier conversation. “Anyways, dear, I think by offering me a house in return for my body you _are_ trying to buy me. And I’m no whore.”

“Oh?” Minseok teases his eyebrows raised like this is news to him. Baekhyun smacks his chest, pouting. “Consider it a gift, one of many. I’ll take care of you.”

“Is that how the rich men do it on Earth?” Baekhyun questions, avoiding the commitment. “Lure pretty boys in with promises of gifts before you take, take, and take.”

“Something like that,” Minseok says, cocking his head in acquiescence. His hand travels a little closer to Baekhyun’s crotch, teasing, _testing_ him.

Baekhyun only opens his legs a hair’s breadth more, inviting a more daring touch. When it comes, he lets his head fall back, soft sigh spilling from his lips.

Minseok’s pupils dilate as he takes in Baekhyun’s reaction. But just as soon as Baekhyun gives him, he’s taking Minseok’s hand in his and redirecting his touch elsewhere, onto a safer surface, like his knee. Baekhyun grins internally at the little flicker of frustration that crosses Minseok’s face, but Minseok’s not forceful. He understands Baekhyun’s not there with him… yet.

“I want you to give me the world,” Baekhyun whispers, then, letting his breath wash over Minseok’s ear, hot, heady. “I want the fame, the fortune, the _legacy_. I want the power. I want to own _you._ ”

Minseok hums, but he doesn’t respond.

Baekhyun stands, preparing himself to leave. Really, it’s been nice and all, but he _does_ have a concert tomorrow. And he expects Minseok will have to think on their agreement.

Minseok shows him out the door, but not before pulling him in close and kissing him possessively. He tastes like expensive alcohol and candied strawberries and something deeper, something uniquely him.

Then, he pats Baekhyun’s ass, and the elevator door closes, leaving Baekhyun somewhat disheveled, but ultimately pleased by how everything turned out. And now, with Minseok checked off his list, he can focus on the concert. On showing Minseok he’s _worth_ the world.

***

“The finale prior the encore is the pinnacle that’ll be broadcast to the world,” the stage director explains. “It’s got the most moving pieces, but you’ll be stationary for the most part.” He points out the platform Baekhyun will be standing on. It’s ground-level, but the props fly about above him, a light-show in and of themselves.

During machine rehearsal, Baekhyun watches as the technicians operate the various lights and other stage props above the platform. It’s built like a a syzygy of celestial objects. Most of the machine arms are decorated with glowing planetary designs, and the platform Baekhyun will be stood on is decorated like the night sky, glittering and glimmering like the sky actually does. Indeed, it’s a complicated set, but Baekhyun has no concerns about it. The technicians seem well-practiced and confident. He’s not afraid.

Taeyeon disagrees.

“I think we should cut the finale platform. Or at least, move your placement. I don’t like you being directly underneath all of that.”

“It’ll be fine,” Baekhyun says, waving her off. “Besides, we really don’t have _time_ to devise a new placement. And if we did, it might make it more dangerous if we confuse the techs. Don’t you think?”

Taeyeon’s brows furrow. She’s not convinced, but Baekhyun’s, indeed, right. People have already been let inside to find their seats or standing room. He can hear the instrumentals of his album playing muffled in the background. They _can’t_ be changing things this late. At least, not without delaying the opening. And that’ll be complicated in and of itself since they are broadcasting the concert throughout the Delphini System, not just Cervantes’s solar system.

“Baekhyun, I’m telling you this as a friend, not your manager. I really don’t feel comfortable with the stage design.”

“Didn’t you approve it?” Baekhyun mumbles, eyeing Taeyeon apprehensively.

“Well, _yes_ , but the stage director added elements to it that weren’t there at the stage I approved. And I think those elements overcomplicate the motions and cause way more room for error,” Taeyeon explains. “We can push things back. It’ll be unpopular, but really, isn’t your safety more important?”

“I know your worried, but I think you’re overreacting. I watched the rehearsals. Tech knows what they’re doing. I trust them,” and then he’s walking towards the make-up artists and hair stylists. Taeyeon continues to argue her point all throughout this period of getting ready, but Baekhyun’s stubborn. The reason the set is so pretty is because he’ll be dressed in a silvery, star-like outfit, above the night sky, with the heavens moving all around him. If he moves to a different platform, they lose the visuals.

And Baekhyun’s devoted to his art. Devoted to having it consumed properly. In a way that compliments his music, his dance, and all his other talents. He’s not going to throw out the visuals, not when they’re so important for that finale song.

Which is why, three hours later, he finds himself in the center of that platform, his jewelry glittering under the spotlights. He croons into his microphone, intentionally seductive, intentionally inviting. He _flirts_ with the camera even as he directs his voice over complicated vocal runs, riffs, and climbs. And above him, the heavens _spin_ beautifully cementing the supposition of his song.

He _is_ heavenly. Godly, glorious. He’s the star everyone yearns for. Everyone wishes upon.

He and his music are _paradise_. They are the end-all. The ultimate beauty. _Perfection_.

But, perfection has always been unattainable.

Everything happens quickly. There’s a resounding crash from above him, a screech of metal, and before he can even look up, he’s gone.

The aftermath is something of a madness. The lights and cameras cut, but not quick enough. In mere seconds, Dulcinea’s _star_ -bright singer’s crumpled, crushed body is broadcast across the five star systems in the Delphinus System. It’s an instantaneous shock that ripples outwards like a wave. It’s a dramatic end to a dramatic, well-loved singer.

And the outcry is instantaneous. In the weeks that follow, the singer’s body is acquired by a medical lab and put into stasis, it’s decomposition halted before it could even begin. The lab’s mission: to attempt the impossible. To give Dulcinae it’s Darling back.

A year after his death, Baekhyun’s eyes open again.

Seconds later, something else _also_ Sees.

***

Baekhyun is calm for the whole of a minute before he begins to thrash. Instantly, hands are on his arms, forcing him down against the gurney. He’s gasping for breath, as if his lungs are starved of it, but at the same time, shouting at the top of his lungs. _Screaming_ out of desperation, out of pain. Because, though he now _sees,_ he also now _feels_ , and whatever pain that had landed him here now echoes all throughout his body like a ghost pain.

And behind all of that panic, there’s also something else. A simple push at front of his head, just behind his eyes, and the overwhelming, foreign feeling of _curiosity_. And this terrifies Baekhyun even further, because he is not _curious_. He is _traumatized_ , and that thought feel implanted, fake. Like a subtle indication that Baekhyun is not alone in his consciousness any longer.

He’s nauseous and he’s _fatigued_. And those are the only reasons that the fight begins to bleed out of his body.

As a distraction, he looks around, taking in his environment even as the nurses shout for a sedative. He’s in a hospital, or at least, a clinic or a lab. Everything’s bright, sterile, clean. It’s impersonal, cold. Baekhyun _hates_ it.

But it’s _familiar_. He’s been hurt. He’s at a hospital. He’s recovering.

He lists them like items to be checked off. Qualifying his environment. His place. But, it invites more questions. How _had_ he been hurt? And that question brings _everything_ rushing back. Again, he feels that bare second of true, empty fear. Again, he hears the sound of the metal screeching together, warping, tearing, ripping itself apart.

Again, he hears the soft plummet of whatever had hit him.

He remembers a mere burst of pain and then nothing.

He’s sedated a moment later, his breathing forced to slow, his limbs forced to relax. His mind moves sluggishly, but, it’s not as foggy as it might otherwise be. At least, not immediately.

That’s when he meets the eyes of the Doctor. They’re dark, bottomless. And, surprisingly, they’re just as horrified as Baekhyun feels.

“This was a mistake,” the Doctor intones, just as Baekhyun’s eyes slip shut, his body forced into an artificial slumber.

***

It takes a week for them to get to the point where Baekhyun can wake up and not immediately lose his mind. Now that it’s happened, there’s an almost haunted numbness that seems to permeate the singer’s very being.

He sits, slouched, on his gurney. His body’s been repaired, though a mass of scars paint the line of his back and cut through his ribs, reminding him of the scale of the injury he’d suffered. He doesn’t even know what happened in full. Just knows that the stage failed, just as Taeyeon said it could of, and that he’d been dead in an instant.

 _Dead_.

“Baekhyun?” It’s Taeyeon’s voice. Her friend-voice.

He just shakes his head, eyes staring down at his hands; his emotions empty, numb. The only thing he _feels_ is that foreign presence. That foreign being that he swears infects his mind. He’s muttered about it before. The new _voice_. The new _haunt_ , but the nurses say nothing, only looking amongst themselves with a glimmer of terror in their eyes.

He doesn’t learn the origin of that new haunt until a month later, when he’s finally allowed outside, in hopes it’ll help repair his spirit. Help show him that things are normal after all.

Except, when he’s shown into the garden, his gaze instantly falls on a foreign presence. A _familiar_ foreigner.

“What the _fuck_ is that?” He hisses, his voice hoarse from disuse, his hand tightening around the nurse accompanying him’s arm.

She quivers a little at the poison in his tone, and turns to Taeyeon, who walks a step behind them both. Baekhyun’s friend sighs and then, “The company requested that, in the event you could be resurrected, you would also be cloned,” she pauses, but Taeyeon’s really never been one to mince words. “That way, they have a replacement if something were ever to happen again.”

Baekhyun’s _clone_ looks up, eyes wide, innocent, zeroing in on Baekhyun’s face. Its eyebrows furrow in confusion, and, it holds its hand out in front of its face, inspecting it and comparing it to the hand that hangs limply at Baekhyun’s side.

“We’ve been calling it Baëkhyun,” the nurse mumbles.

Baekhyun sucks in sharply, his breath hissing through his teeth. He’s _horrified_. He feels _violated_. And they gave the fucking monster a name? His name?

What right does the fucking company have to his body, to his name? Don’t they already own his heart, where all his music, all his creativity lies? Now they own his physical being, his authenticity?

“Kill it. Fucking-” he cuts himself off, blinking. His whole body is rigid with tension. He’s barely restraining himself. “Destroy it, please. Oh my _god_ ,” and all his progress seems to collapse. He’s staring at his fucking _replacement_. A product created to emulate him as authentically as possible. A product Baekhyun never consented to have created. “ _Please_ ,” he begins to beg, shaking the nurse harshly, _pleadingly._ “Please kill it. Please, _please_ , please. Get rid of _it_. Why-” his voice cracks. His crying, hot tears running down his face. “Why would you let them do this?” He sobs, blurry gaze seeking Taeyeon’s.

She says something. _It wasn’t her choice._

But Baekhyun still blames her. Blames the whole damn world even as it collapses all around him. He’s panicking again, but this time, he can’t stop.

A needle is pushed into his neck, hands holding him stationary as the sedative is administered again.

When Baekhyun wakes up next, he’s _empty_.

***

“I had the procedure and research destroyed,” Dr. Zhang says quietly. He’s human— _like Minseok_ , Baekhyun thinks fleetingly—and he’s very much apologetic. “It… it wasn’t right. What we did to you.”

Baekhyun says nothing, watching the doctor with cloudy eyes.

“I’ve also requested that labs elsewhere in our system destroy what research had been in development in their labs. Decades of material turned to ashes because of what _our_ trial depicted.”

“I’m an experiment,” Baekhyun murmurs aloud, not directing the statement at anyone in particular.

Yixing’s gaze lowers, momentarily cowed by Baekhyun’s emotionless observation. Clinical. Removed. It’s almost inhuman considering Baekhyun was _known_ for his liveliness, his emotion. “We thought it would be a triumph.”

“It isn’t.”

“We see that now,” Yixing says. He’s silent for a long minute. Then, “I can’t apologize more. All I can do is ensure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

“You’ve not killed it,” Baekhyun says instead.

He watches Yixing’s face change. Sees the disappointment, then the flash of genuine pity. “We’re not going to kill _him_. It’d be murder.”

“ _It’s_ a clone of _me_. To kill _me_ would be murder. To kill _it_ is hardly the same caliber.”

“Except, it is,” Yixing says unyieldingly. “He displays signs of co-consciousness with you. We don’t know how to explain that. For all intents and purposes, his should have the mental capacity of a child. But he understands mature concepts, understands mature emotions, understands mature speech. He _shares_ your knowledge, to some extent. He is _alive_. He is just as human as you.”

 _I’m not human_ , Baekhyun thinks to himself. But he understands Yixing’s point. Sees where the dilemma is. Even if he disagrees. “I want to see it again,” he says after a long while, just before Yixing turns to leave the room.

The doctor stops in his tracks. “No.”

“I won’t hurt it,” Baekhyun says. “I just… if you won’t kill it, I want to know why. I want to be sure you’re telling the truth.”

“You’ll be handcuffed,” Yixing amends. Baekhyun shrugs. He doesn’t care.

Which is how he finds himself in the gardens about an hour later. Alone. The nurses have left to fetch the clone. And in the meantime, Baekhyun sits and tugs at the silvery grass, his hands cuffed in front of him, but his fingers free to explore the soft, candid creatures of nature. It’s an indoor garden, unfortunately. Only an emulation of what it’s like outside. So, Baekhyun doesn’t get to feel the heat of the silver sun, nor does he get to enjoy that cold, whipping breeze that runs all across Dulcinea’s surface.

The gateway into the garden opens, the sliding doors parting to reveal two nurses and… the clone.

Who stops a foot inside the garden, his eyes falling onto Baekhyun’s.

Baekhyun feels a twinge of fear. It’s not his own. The clone’s then. The nurses stay behind the door, letting them shut, trapping the clone inside with Baekhyun. But they remain nearby, ready to rush inside at the slightest display of violence.

But, Baekhyun’s moved on from wanting the clone dead—at least, by his hands. It’s too much trouble, and, if he ends up offing himself (which looks like a more merciful option each day), at least the world still has a mockery of him. He can give them that. Once he’s dead, it won’t really matter _who_ was the real one, won’t it?

“Come here,” Baekhyun beckons, his voice a touch too harsh. The clone flinches, but, approaches anyways, as if compelled—like it _cannot_ resist, even if it wished to.

“Who are you?” It asks, sitting cross-legged a fair distance from Baekhyun, but near enough that Baekhyun can glance over all his features and indeed confirm that the clone is a perfect reflection of himself.

“Baekhyun,” he says calmly. The clone really isn’t _exact._ His skin’s a slightly different pallor, more cool-toned than Baekhyun’s is, and his eyes are wholly different as a light, almost artificial grey. His expression and general… way of holding himself is also different. Even before this, Baekhyun conducted himself with a certain type of confidence—such that bordered on narcissism. He had a glint in his eye that was prone to mischief, to adventure, to dares.

“My name’s Baëkhyun, too,” the clone murmurs, confused. This is what’s different about it. It’s inherently… innocent. A true blank slate. Like what Baekhyun might have been like had he no personality. But, it’s burgeoning into something. Baekhyun can already tell. The flare of curiosity in his mind’s eye just serves to satisfy his point. Baëkhyun may not have a personality quite yet, but it’s rapidly developing. Baekhyun can almost see the shadow of mischief on the clone’s face, ready to erupt. “Are you well?”

Baekhyun raises a brow. “Why do you ask?” he intones carefully, letting nothing show on his face.

“Last time, you felt… _alive_. But I can’t feel anything now,” Baëkhyun says. Involuntarily, his words send a deep pang through Baekhyun’s chest.

Baëkhyun’s face twitches, like he’d felt the same heavy sadness that Baekhyun was reminded of. But then, Baekhyun’s reigning his emotions back in, returning to that numb state. That protective, apathetic armor.

“Unfortunate,” Baekhyun murmurs. “Do you miss it? Feeling what I felt?”

“No.” The response is instantaneous. Baëkhyun shakes his head sharply. “I- I don’t know what that was but it… it _hurt_ ,” he mumbles, touching his heart like he can still feel the phantom pain of Baekhyun losing his _shit_ at the sight of him.

“It did,” Baekhyun agrees, lapsing into silence. Baëkhyun, for what it’s worth, doesn’t interrupt that silence. Instead, he just mimics Baekhyun by tugging at the grass, braiding it all together. He’s observant, tries things once before it clicks and he can replicate it. It’s _almost_ a delight to watch.

Apart from the very simple fact that Baekhyun would rather not have a clone at all.

“When we leave here,” he says finally, standing up, “I promise I’ll take you with me.”

And Baëkhyun smiles, thinking that Baekhyun’s referring to the Health Clinic. He’s not. He’s referring to the whole damn planet.

***

The next time he hears from Minseok is in the form of a comm text received shortly after his failure of a comeback performance. He’d gone through rigorous months with the company and in therapy to prepare for the moment he got on stage again (not that he thought he could really do it—it’s more because he could not refuse the company even if he had wanted to) and while he’d been able to power through the beginning, the middle had come crumbling down.

He’d panicked on stage and the tabloids were _alive_ with coverage of his _removal_ from that stage, when he’d been clawing at himself and security alike. They _pitied_ him. The tragic star who, despite all efforts to fix him, had been damaged beyond repair.

And now, Baekhyun’s faced with the crushing fear that the company will start to work on Baëkhyun. Will start to manipulate _him_ , right under Baekhyun’s nose. And Baekhyun’s ready to _fight_ for ownership of his clone. It _is_ his body, after all. And ownership isn’t quite the right word. Guardianship? Partnership with him? Marriage? They _do_ share the same body and mind. It’s almost like they’re two become one already.

Or one become two?

Which is when the text comes in, disrupting his train of thoughts. It’s a simple command. **Come visit.** And that’s when everything seems to align.

“Baëkhyun,” he murmurs, glancing over at where the clone sits draped against the arm of his couch, a blanket thrown haphazardly over his legs. “Baëkhyun, wake up,” he says, reaching over to tug the clone’s foot. He wakes up with a start, wide eyes finding Baekhyun’s. “We’re going somewhere.”

He’s dressed for the most part. Comfortably, as opposed to the stage outfit Baekhyun’s still sat in. He’d not had the presence of mind to take it off and change out. It’s almost comical, since _he’s_ arguably the one with less of himself together, and here he is dressed to the nines—like he’s got it all figured out, like there’s not a problem in the world.

Baëkhyun’s eyes widen considerably, excitement filtering through their bond. He hasn’t been outside in the city hardly… ever. Baekhyun had shuttled him right into Capital Tower, taking great care that even if the camera’s caught him, they wouldn’t catch _both_ of them together.

He requests the same driver he’d had months ago, who’d brought him to Minseok’s the last time they’d met up. The driver confirms, and replies to Baekhyun that he’ll be at the base of the building in ten.

Baekhyun pays him a fortune to ensure he’ll stay mum about the obvious twin in the backseat. He doesn’t even ask questions about Baëkhyun. Just chats amicably with Baekhyun, trying, and succeeding at putting the flighty singer at ease.

They arrive at Paradigm and Baekhyun thanks the driver again. He shuttles Baëkhyun inside, into the elevator, and then, punches in Minseok’s suite code.

The elevator deposits them a couple of minutes later, Baekhyun dragging Baëkhyun out of the elevator and then glancing around the room—finding his bearings. Minseok stands at the bar, pouring himself a drink, but when he turns and sees _two_ , he pauses, nonchalance bleeding into shock.

“What the fuck?”

“Capitalism,” Baekhyun murmurs quietly, by way of explanation. Minseok obviously doesn’t _quite_ get the connection, but he’s a smart man. He’ll figure it out eventually. “I need him to get _buried_ ,” Baekhyun says, gesturing to his clone.

“Literally or figuratively,” Minseok says now, all business. “And for what?”

“I’ll be yours,” Baekhyun says instantly. “ _We’ll_ be yours. Did you ever think on my proposition?”

Minseok nods, his gaze narrow, cruel. He’s not fond of games despite all the ones he’s played with Baekhyun. Now, they’re playing a _real_ one. And Minseok knows it. Knows well enough to watch Baekhyun’s words, lest he try and run Minseok in circle again.

“Literally or figuratively,” Minseok repeats again, ignoring Baekhyun’s question.

“Figuratively. I want him protected. I don’t want a single soul to know what he is. I don’t want him to be stolen from me and used. It’s bad enough they stole my body, my mind; it’s worse if they get to violate it.”

Minseok’s silent, and only now does he return to Baekhyun’s proposition. “I can do that for you. If you’re both mine?”

Baekhyun’s memory flits back to the promise. He’d wanted the _world_. He’d wanted _Minseok_. But people just don’t get what they want.

“We’re _yours_.”

***

**~4500 CE, Saffar**

Titawin Solar System, Andromedae Star Cluster

“Ambassador Kim.”

Jongdae looks up, gaze flickering, hard. He presses the switch to end the holovid playing on his desk and diverts his attention in full to the newcomer. It’s his aide, and they are followed closely by a masked and bodily concealed individual. One of his spies, then. “Shut the door,” he directs the aide, then, turning to the masked individual, he beckons them around his desk, through another doorway, and then another after that.

The second that door shuts, the stranger’s removing their mask and pulling off their gloves. Their deep golden skin is sheened with sweat, and their hair’s matted to their forehead and neck. “Seungwan. It’s good to see you,” Jongdae murmurs, pleasantly surprised to see the Saffarian alien.

She nods, “I’d rather it be under different circumstance,” she says.

“What needs to be done?” Jongdae asks immediately, prepared to jump right into business.

“My brothers have been talking. I think there will be another dissolution of treaty terms,” she relays. “And _my_ spies have mentioned hearing of a Andromedae uprising,” she pauses, then clarifies exactly what that means. “Where all _Terran_ colonies are cleansed from our system’s heavenly bodies. A xenocide of your people.”

“Earth is a part of the Virgo Conference. As far as I am aware, Andromedae is not—despite your proximity to all of the Conference’s systems,” he says quietly, “Is Saffar’s Regime really prepared to go head to head with all of its sister galaxies?”

“Saffar is not as rich in resources as humans would have liked,” Seungwan counters. “You came here in search of precious metals and technology. We have nothing that _you_ would classify under those terms. Do you really think your Virgo Conference will fight to keep these planets within its realm of influence?”

 _No_. He doesn’t. Which is why, after Seungwan completes relaying all of her information and is ushered out of the embassy, Jongdae immediately contacts his neighbors. He relays this information to each ambassador, careful to spin the details in such a way that his words cannot be refuted. He’s not here to argue with his own allies. He’s here to try and save _all_ of their skins.

“We need to arrange for an evacuation. I’d like to send my Saffarian colonists to your Majriti,” Jongdae explains to one such neighboring ambassador over a private comm call. “And I’d like to help arrange your Majritians and my Saffarians passage back to Earth, or at least, to one of our colonies under the Virgo Conference of galaxies.”

The ambassador, thankfully, agrees. Kim Minkyung’s always been a clever woman. She’ll easily accept any option that keeps her people safe. She relays that she’ll convince Majriti’s governess as Jongdae’s asked, and contact him as soon as she gets confirmation, then hangs up. Leaving Jongdae alone in a quiet, empty office.

He stands up, pushing away from his desk, and navigates his way down the hallway, into the embassy’s neighboring building: the Governor’s building. Security doesn’t stop him. He’s perhaps the only colonist that gets this privilege. As Ambassador, he is arguably more important than the governor himself. Security will never jeopardize their favor with him for this reason.

“Governor?” He greets, letting himself into the man’s office. Governor Lee is a severe man, strict, unyielding, worn. When Jongdae first met him, he was instantly at odds with the man. Jongdae had been on Saffar’s surface far longer than Lee had, and _yet_ , it was Lee that wrestled power from him.

It was _Lee_ who got them into this situation with the Saffarian Regime. “Governor, we have to talk.”

Lee appears to be in a meeting, a number of holographic faces displayed above his desk. Jongdae can see a few eyes flickering over to him—recognizes a few of the world leaders—but he really pays them no mind. Not when his focus _has_ to be on Lee. It’ll be a battle of wills to get Lee to agree, but Jongdae’s got a few tricks up his sleeve. “Please, excuse yourself from your meeting,” he says more tonelessly. He’s not asking. He’s commanding. And if Governor Lee’s a smart man, he’ll listen up.

It seems Lee understands the severity of Jongdae’s situation, and, after a beat of silence, he excuses himself from the meeting, banishing the holovid and cutting all audio communication. “What do you need, Kim?” He says patronizingly, rolling the syllables in his mouth.

“It’s Ambassador,” Jongdae reminds, “And I’m asking that you arrange for the colony’s evacuation. I intend to stay, as will my diplomatic envoy, in an effort to try and remedy the negative developments we’ve suffered with the Regime, but I’d like the settlers to be moved to a safer planetary zone.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Jongdae shoots back. “Mjriti’s colony is ready to accept us and I’ll be arranging for a number of mass-transport ships to arrive _at_ Mjriti’s ports to then evacuate the colonies into the Virgo Conference’s zone of influence.”

“You’ve been dealing with our neighbors behind my back? Who’s governor here, Kim?”

“A damn fool,” Jongdae bites, his tone sharp. “My spies have been clear. The Saffarian Regime intends to perform a cleansing. And, given you have not been here for very long, Governor, I don’t think you know what that _means_ ,” Jongdae hisses, his whole body tense with anger. “When Earth first tried to colonize this damn planet, we went to _war_. And the only reason we’ve settled here today is because of the formulation of a diplomatic treaty that benefited both Saffar and us. You _destroyed_ that damn treaty’s legitimacy when you expanded the colony’s borders without prior approval from this planet’s native people. You _destroyed_ it by allowing missionaries out into Saffar’s population, where they’ve systematically persecuted and murdered Saffarian religious sites and pilgrims.”

Jongdae sucks in a breath, “A Saffarian cleansing is a xenocide. They’ll tear us apart from the children up. They’ll take away our future and let us watch it rot. A _cleansing_ is a torturous, slow death. Do you _really_ want to play that game? You will lose.”

“So, we call for reinforcement from the Conference.”

“We settled on these planets in hopes of finding precious resources. There is nothing useful for us, here. The only reason we remain is that it’s good to keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. My spies have been integral to the Conference’s understanding of how the Andromedae System works. But, not so integral that the Conference will wage a long bloody war for it,” Jongdae lays out. “Allow me to repeat myself, Governor. You do not want to play this game. You _will_ lose.”

Silence.

“I’ll not have you twist my arm and claim all the credit for-”

“I don’t care about credit. I don’t care about legacy. I don’t care about any of that,” Jongdae snaps. Immediately after, he breathes deep, controlling his anger once more. “You can be the face of this, if you really want to. But I am the brains,” Jongdae says, laying out his compromise. “I _know_ Saffar. I know the Regime. I have wined and dined with them. I have worshipped with them. I have celebrated with them. I have mourned with them. You have not. Let me design the evacuation. You can implement it.”

The Governor is silent, but Jongdae’s not nervous. He’s won, that much he can tell already. It’s confirmed a moment later, when Lee gives him a curt nod. They will evacuate, then, and Jongdae and his team of diplomats will attempt to salvage what relations they have with Saffar.

***

About a year later, he’s awoken in the middle of the night by blaring security sirens. Which only means one thing. He’s failed. Saffar has not interest in diplomacy, at least, not with the olive branch. Now, they meet Jongdae with the spear—dangerous, war-like, deadly. He dresses quickly, grabbing the bag he’s already had prepared, as well as an assault rifle, loading it before he steps out into the hallway.

He’d kept a small team behind with him. Only a group of twelve aides and seven security personnel. Many are already waiting for him in the evac-bay, though a few filter in mere minutes later. They jump into action, readying the shuttle and performing the last supply checks that they can afford the time for. Jongdae helps a couple of aides transfer the _paper_ documents of their experiences and dealings in Saffar while the soldiers guard the doors and the technicians ready the ship for flying.

The alarms kick up a notch, the second level of security must have been breached, then.

A mere second later, all of the alarms cut off. This gives Jongdae pause. This makes them effectively blind to whatever threat’s at their doors. Now, they have no indication of how far into the building the Saffarian hunters have breached.

“Leave anything that remains. We need to leave,” he yells, directing the soldiers to board the ship, dropping his own box of materials. He grabs one of his more stubborn aides by the collar, jostling their box out of their hands, and shoves them through the hatch. A second later, the techs are sealing the door and the shuttle is humming to life. Inside the shuttle, he cannot hear the sky-roof opening, but he can feel the shuttle rising up into the sky.

He can feel the jolt as it is inevitably shot at.

It keels over to the side, rolling as its pilot puts it into overdrive, rocketing them forwards, but it does not crash. The pilot’s a skilled fellow. They’ll escape. And Jongdae’s of no use right now. He’s no longer the commanding officer. Now, all he can do is wait to be put to work. All he can do is pray that they won’t be shot out of the sky.

He winces at every jolt of impact, but the shuttle continues moving throughout it all.

Until, the lights flash to red, and the whole ship _shudders_ like it’s going to fall apart. Jongdae’s gaze flickers upwards, boring into the lights as if that will give him all the answers. Of course, this doesn’t work, and he’s left alone with his faith until one of the techs come to the body of the plane and explains what has happened.

They’ve sustained damage to the fuselage and motor systems. They’ll be unable to fly safely any longer—if they attempt to power through, they risk the entire ship exploding or ripping itself apart and the vacuum of space doing the rest. “Then cut the engines,” he says quietly, “And ready the cryogenic pods. Can we send out a distress signal and take a look at the damage, see if repairs are at all possible?”

“We’ll be sending mechanic out as soon as possible, but, given the system’s response, we don’t think there’ll be much success,” the technician, Mark, explains. “But, we can ready the cryogenic pods and send out a distress signal. We’ve been able to shuttle our way out of Saffar’s orbit, and they’re not going to waste resources going after us.”

“Good, then get to work,” Jongdae says, standing up to go find the pilot.

Days later, the pods are ready, and the signal has been sent out—with no response. Jongdae reasons out their options with the pilot, sits and theorizes, jokes and cries. Because, once they enter those pods, they’ll have to be released. Once they enter those pods, they give up any control of their future. Of when they’ll wake up. And they can only hope that if their ship is found, it’s found by friendlies.

“We should leave enough supplies for when we’re woken,” the pilot—Yoona—explains. “The faster we get into the pods, the more we can leave behind.”

“Then, let’s make sure we program a recurring distress ping before we do so.”

“Mark’s already done so,” Yoona says. “And, if that’s the only thing making us hesitate, perhaps, it’s time to grow a pair and just deal with the pods.”

Jongdae grimaces. He’s not a fan of the machinery. It gives him an awful taste in the back of his mouth, metallic like blood. It’s partly the enclosed space, partly the sensory deprivation, partly the trust he has to have that he’ll be rescued and not just… lay there in limbo, alive in a tomb. “I suppose,” he says.

So, they get up and direct their crew into the hold, where the cryogenic lab awaits them. They have a crew of twenty (including him), and only _just_ the right amount of pods. Jongdae hadn’t expected to have to use them, but now, he’s glad he’d kept such a small team behind. Glad he cut corners where he otherwise could have not.

Everyone stares at one another, unwilling to be the first inside any of the machines. It _is_ terrifying. The instantaneous freezing. The inability to check if the cryogenics _worked_ without potentially injuring whoever’s in the pod. Jongdae sighs. It’s best to just get it out of the way. “I’ll go,” he mutters, stepping up to the pod in the far corner of the ship. He steps inside, leaning the back of his head up against the cushioned back of the capsule.

Mark programs the pod, relaying a little bit of information about how the pod itself happens to work, and then, he’s activating it.

Jongdae’s never felt a more searing cold. It starts at his feet and races up his body, painful enough that once it reaches his head, he’s out.

He’s frozen in time.

***

**~5100 CE, Andromedae Cluster**

Free Floating

The next time he blinks, he’s still stuck looking at the cryogenic pod’s pale, metallic panel door. And he’s _thawing_ , his breath puffing out in front of him. It’s a very strange, very singular feeling to experience your own organs begin to work once more, your own skin to come back to life, your joints cracking as you move yourself out of stasis.

It’s also _terrifying_ , because the damn door isn’t open.

He has no idea if the pod’s failed, if it’s lost power and he’ll now suffocate, or if he’s been rescued. But, in all his training, rescue meant the door was _opened_ so that he could be let out.

So, the second he has feeling throughout his entire body, he begins to throw himself against the door, nails scraping long lines into the panel. He’s _deperate_ , his breath panting out quickly, his eyes filling with tears. He doesn’t want to die in a tomb he willingly got inside. He doesn’t want to _die_.

“Let me out!” He yells, pounding against the door. There is no response.

He slumps down against the door, palms pressed flatly against the panel, and he begins to sob in full. Huge, wracking tremors that shake his whole frame.

And then, the door slides open, and he tumbles forward onto the floor.

A heavy weight settles on the back of his neck, threatening and imposing. It takes all of a second for Jongdae to figure out what it is despite his limited range of vision. It’s a boot. Someone is _stepping_ on the back of his neck. “I’m a friendly,” he whimpers, keeping his body lax and unthreatening.

“No, you’re not,” a voice comes. And, weirdly enough, it’s semi-familiar. Which is odd in and of itself, because the Common they speak is definitely accented. And it’s not an accent Jongdae can place.

“I’m not a threat, then,” Jongdae corrects, grounding himself as best he could despite his still thudding heart.

The stranger hums, obviously not quite agreeing, but not too interested in continuing to argue. “Baëkhyun,” he says, “let him up.”

And the boot retreats from his neck. Jongdae slowly rises up to sit cross-legged, his hands in his lap, and only then does he look around, curious, concerned. The ship’s obviously fallen into disrepair, and several of the cryogenic pods appear to have malfunctioned, making the temperature around them cold and unforgiving. He bites back a sob. He can’t imagine how many of his crew-mates _woke_ just like he did, but weren’t released. Who haven’t survived.

Then, his gaze flicks onto the strangers. The one with that dull, empty voice stands leaning in the doorway of one of the malfunctioned pods. Amidst the cold fog that seeps out of the open pod, Jongdae can spot a fully decomposed skeleton. He shivers. “Who are you?” He says before looking at the one named Baëkhyun, who had been keeping him pressed to the ground.

He does a double take.

“Is there something wrong?” Baëkhyun teases, cocking his head. His gaze flashes with interest, with excitement.

There _is_. He’s looking at the same person. “Are you twins?”

“Mhm… no. Not quite,” the voice behind him says.

“Who’s the clone, then?” Jongdae asks, thinking of the only other plausible answer.

A laugh. “You’re quick.”

“I’m not stupid,” Jongdae counters.

Baëkhyun seems to lose interest then, walking up to the pod and peering inside, looking around the container. He asks something, then, in his native tongue, but he gets no response. Jongdae turns his gaze from Baëkhyun back to the stranger now, convinced that the original is the more dominant one. “Is your name also Baëkhyun?”

“Baekhyun,” he answers, and perhaps there’s a slight change in inflection, but otherwise it _is_ the same name.

Jongdae nods, “I’m Jongdae Kim.”

“Just Jongdae Kim?” Baekhyun questions, looking at Jongdae’s style of dress. He’s wearing the same clothes he’d been frozen in. They’re plain-clothes for the most part. They give away nothing about his status, his training. For _once_ Jongdae’s glad not to claim that part of him. He doesn’t know _who_ these aliens are (because they are definitely aliens, judging by the immediate anatomical differences they have to Jongdae), and he doesn’t know what an Ambassador would mean to them, if anything.

“Just Jongdae Kim,” Jongdae confirms, lying. Baekhyun cocks his head, but doesn’t seem to care enough to continue questioning him.

Instead, he levels his gun at Jongdae’s head. “Then, I don’t think Boss will have any use for you,” he murmurs.

Jongdae’s eyes widen, and he immediately puts his hands up, flinching and cowering. “I’m an Ambassador. Ambassador Kim. My credentials are in my digital file. I can pull them up.”

“A liar?” Baëkhyun murmurs from behind him, still poking around with the other pods.

Baekhyun hums in agreement, but he lowers the barrel of his gun. “Ambassador for who?”

“Earth. I operate in the interests of the Virgo Conference,” Jongdae says quietly. “My last assignment was on Saffar, dealing with the Andromedae Regime.”

“How curious,” Baekhyun mutters, “we’re _also_ operating under the Virgo Conference. Or… rather, we _were_. _And_ our last assignment was with the Andromedae Regime.”

“You’re diplomats?” Jongdae says confusedly. He _never_ would have guessed.

“If diplomacy is written in blood… then yes, you could say we’re diplomats.”

“Assassins then?”

“Mercenaries,” Baëkhyun quips, muscling one of the pods open, just barely dodging the frozen body that crashes out of it and cracks on the floor. Blood seeps out across the panelling. Jongdae looks away, unsure if he even wants to identify the corpse.

Baekhyun’s lip is curled distastefully, if a little queasily at the sight of the cracking corpse. “Baëkhyun, behave.” And then, he’s looking back at Jongdae, returning his face to impassivity.

But Jongdae is an ambassador, well-versed in the art of body language and micro-tells, even in foreign aliens. He can tell that Baekhyun was suddenly made uneasy, can see that it was _personal_ , not just general unsettlement having to do with death. “Are you powerful?”

Jongdae blinks. “Define power.”

“Do you have _influence_ on Earth? _Influence_ within the Virgo Conference.”

“Yes,” Jongdae says. But really, he doesn’t know. Not when he has absolutely _no_ understanding of how long he’s been frozen. But, he’s smart enough to know that if he admitted this fact, Baekhyun will kill him. He and his clone _are_ mercenaries after all. They’re not going to help him out of the goodness of their hearts. “You can return me to my home planet and I can arrange for a reward.”

Baekhyun hums, seemingly weighing their options, then, shakes his head. “No. I like keeping the Conference at an arm’s length. But, Boss might want to make a deal with you.” He straightens up. “Get up, try anything and Baëkhyun’ll skewer you.”

Jongdae glances at the clone, who activates what looks like a sabre made out of a thin beam of light. He doesn’t want to find out what it feels like to be struck by the weapon, so he stands up. “Can I check the other capsules? See if any of my crew is alive?”

“No,” Baekhyun says quietly, “I don’t have the supplies for them.”

Jongdae bites back a whine, and, with Baëkhyun at his back all he can do is offer a prayer for the crew members that might still be alive, frozen and abandoned. He’s walked through his ship, into the smaller, private vessel that floats beside them, connected by a docking bridge.

Baekhyun’s ship is built for a crew of one or two, which Jongdae would normally take to mean it would be built more technically, with less concern for aesthetics. Function over fashion, since the space the engineers had to work with was much smaller. But, Baekhyun’s ship is not at all like that. It’s a sleek design, reminiscent of a private jet back on Earth. It seems built to serve as an interplanetary suite. It is _comfortable_ and _expensive_.

Nothing like Jongdae’s ship, which was built for function.

“Baëkhyun, show him to the guest room, if you would?”

Baëkhyun nods, nudging Jongdae down the body of the ship and down into one of the two wings. The bedroom is—like the rest of the ship—sleek and well-designed. Baëkhyun leaves him there, disappearing back out the door. It slides shut behind him. Jongdae listens as all the locks activate.

He’s a prisoner.

***

He’s let out twice a day to join them in the main room, which is comfortably furnished with seats, tables, and entertainment amenities. Again, Jongdae thinks that the ship bears very little resemblance to the style he’d _expect_ from mercenaries (it looks like the type of vessel suited for interplanetary celebrities, or otherwise elite members of society), but he has to admit that it’s comfortable. There, Baekhyun gives him a ration of food, _sometimes_ a glass of something wine-like, and ever so often, an update on their journey.

Today’s one of those days where Baekhyun breaks out the bigger drinks, pouring into his glass just enough liquor that Jongdae’s eyes flick up to Baekhyun’s, wary and concerned. Then, Baekhyun reaches over and pours Jongdae an equal amount.

He sips it, expecting something gentle. It’s not, searing unpleasantly as it races down his throat. “This is a lot,” he says mildly.

“Is it?” Baekhyun mutters. Baëkhyun blinks, and wisely keeps Baekhyun from pouring him anything. He gets up and fetches one of those fruity, bubbly drinks from a different compartment, shooting Baekhyun and worried look as he does so. “I hadn’t noticed,” he lies, knocking back some of his drink and _immediately_ withdrawing into himself, his eyes glazing over, his body relaxing.

Jongdae takes all of this into account, then, “Is there a problem or something?”

“Hm?”

“Something’s on your mind. And it’s bothering you. I’m asking if it’s something I can help with,” Jongdae says easily, taking another sip from his glass before refocusing all of his attention on his captor. Baëkhyun watches the exchange, but curiously enough, he doesn’t stop Jongdae from asking (as he’s typical to do; Jongdae thinks he craves attention, and can’t stand it when Baekhyun’s is on Jongdae and not him).

Baekhyun doesn’t answer, just leans back in his seat and kicks his feet up onto the table, crossing his legs comfortably, glass cradled in his lap. “It doesn’t matter to you,” Baekhyun mumbles, voice soft.

“It doesn’t,” Jongdae agrees, “I really _don’t_ care. But I offered anyways,” Jongdae says. He has no attachment to Baekhyun, nor to his clone, and he’s not going to sit and pry if Baekhyun doesn’t want to willingly give up information. It’s just not smart. He doesn’t _want_ to get on Baekhyun’s bad side, and prying will do that.

So, he turns his attention to Baëkhyun, who’s practically fidgeting since he’s been left out of the conversation. His grey gaze meets Jongdae’s, pupils dilated, his gaze _sharp_ , but interested. Curious. “Where are you from, Baëkhyun?”

“Dulcinea,” the clone tells him. “Where are you from?”

“Earth,” Jongdae says, “South Korea,” more specifically. And, while he relays a little bit of information about Earth and his homeland, he also tries to make any connections to Dulcinea. Because… it _is_ familiar, in some odd way. And he’s not quite sure how. “Tell me about Dulcinea,” he says once he finishes telling Baëkhyun about Seoul and his family back home (make oneself personable to the enemy and they are less likely to kill you).

Baëkhyun opens his mouth to respond, but pauses, lips parted, breath puffing out of his lips. Then, his mouth closes.

“Do you not know the answer?” Jongdae jokes, sipping from his glass.

“Baëkhyun’s explored the streets of Dulcibella _once_ and spent the rest of the time sat in penthouses. He’s more accustomed to the planet while in orbit,” Baekhyun says, “he’s unfortunately got a very recognizable face there.”

And that’s when it clicks.

“You’re a Delphini singer, aren’t you? Or, you _were_ ,” Jongdae amends, figuring it’s unlikely an interstellar celebrity would moonlight as a mercenary in their spare time. And he _knew_ that voice was strangely familiar.

Baëkhyun gasps, “You know?”

Even Baekhyun seems somewhat impressed, his eyes finally focusing. “How do you know that?”

“Earth is obsessed with absorbing interstellar culture and attempting to emulate it. Dulcinea’s music scene was very famous, and, whenever we could, we would transmit performances out of Delphi. Not always successfully, but when it was… _well_ , it was a beloved past-time. Delphini Pop got _very_ popular, is what I’m saying, with our own singers attempting the genre.”

Baekhyun hums, but he doesn’t mirror Jongdae’s reminiscent smile. “I’m surprised it reached this far. Delphinus is a small cluster on the galactic radar,” he muses.

“Small, but bright,” Jongdae agrees. Then, he pauses, choosing his next words as delicately as he can. “What caused you to become _this_ and leave _that_ behind?” He eventually settles on. It’s still blunt, but…

“Stage accident and medical malpractice,” Baekhyun says. He doesn’t elaborate and Jongdae doesn’t remember any big news about a Delphini singer. But, considering the haunted look in Baekhyun’s eyes, Jongdae’s not going to press. He knows when to stop.

“Is that where we’re headed now, Dulcinea?”

“Yes,” Baekhyun says quietly. “We may even be stopped in Dulcibella, but… I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

“They’re not,” Jongdae says.

“Then, you have nothing to worry about.” He falls silent again, reaching out and resting one of his finely-boned hands on Baëkhyun’s thigh. Jongdae follows the motion, then averts his gaze, even if Baekhyun is only resting his hand there.

“Perhaps,” Baekhyun says now, “it’s time for you to return to your room, Jongdae Kim.”

He stands, recognizing a dismissal when he hears one. Baëkhyun stands too, obviously so he can follow Jongdae back and lock him in, but Baekhyun reaches out and pulls the clone back down into his lap, tutting his tongue. “Dae-yah won’t try anything,” he mutters, “stay here.”

And Jongdae takes his leave, knowing not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

***

He’s jolted awake. The ship is pitch black apart from the dull red lights running in streamers down the hallway. Emergency lights. It appears that apart from them, the ship’s power has been cut, because Jongdae’s door sits wide open, the mechanism obviously malfunctioned or otherwise opened as an emergency response prior to complete battery shutdown.

He gets out of his sleeping pod, hitting the cold flooring barefoot.

Someone moves out in the hallway, then, ducks inside his room. It’s Baëkhyun, half-dressed and shamelessly tussled. “Be quiet,” he directs in the form of a biting sort of whisper. He’s got a rifle strapped to his back, and his sabre in hand. He shoves Jongdae down, onto the ground, and pushes him flat against the wall closest to the door.

Baëkhyun takes the opposite side, his breathing _silent_ , his whole body tense. He waits, obviously listening for anything out in the hall.

Jongdae hears it a few seconds after Baëkhyun’s become aware of it (with his superior senses). Footsteps coming their way.

A gunshot rings out in the hallway, followed by a curse and a yell. Someone ducks into Jongdae’s room. He immediately reaches out for the visitor’s legs, dragging them off balance as Baëkhyun levels them with a heavy punch to the face and activates his sabre.

The pirate’s face is illuminated in the soft, white glow of Baëkhyun’s weapon, his eyes wide, semi-frightened. And then, they grow impossibly wider. “Baekhyun?” He murmurs, shocked.

Baëkhyun pauses, just shy of skewering the pirate. “What did you just say?”

“It’s Chanyeol!” The pirate says. Jongdae’s gaze flicks between the two of their faces. Baëkhyun _definitely_ doesn’t recognize the pirate, so Chanyeol must have meant Baekhyun. The Original. He must not even know about the clone.

“Baëkhyun, he knows _Baek_ hyun,” Jongdae hisses.

Another gunshot, another grunt, and Chanyeol’s yelling into the hallway. “Soo, Nini! Hold your fire.”

Followed by a gasp and a snarling sort of yell that sounds and awful lot like, “What the fuck are you idiots _doing?!_ ” Courtesy of Baekhyun. There’s a scuffle in the hallway as Baekhyun undoubtably throttles one of the pirates. “In what life would you ever attack a ship with Kim’s Sigil?”

“Uh, this one?” Someone quips back. Then, the ship’s lights are reactivating. Jongdae blinks against the brightness, picking himself up off the floor and peering out into the hallway. Baekhyun, like his clone, is also half-dressed (haphazardly so, as if he’d gotten dressed in a rush), and equally tussled, with long red lines scraped down his back.

One of the strangers also takes note of this, and clearly not the tactful type (or simply unconcerned about Baekhyun’s potential reaction) says, “Ah, did we interrupt something? Is that why you’re so pissy?”

“I’m pissy because you moored my ship. I’ve got places to be, Kyungsoo, and you’re slowing me down.”

“A shame,” Kyungsoo drawls boredly, glancing down the hallway. “Who’s this? Your lover?”

Jongdae shakes his head quickly. “No, definitely not,” he says. Behind him, Chanyeol steps out into the hall, followed closely by Baëkhyun. That’s when he does his double-take.

“There’s two of you,” Chanyeol mutters, then, turning to Jongdae, “Is that what you meant when you-” He looks back at Baekhyun, then, puts two and two together. “Holy _shit_ , you’ve got a clone?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, shoulders slouching now that he’s not under attack. “Now’s really not the time, Chan-”

“And, oh my god? Are you,” Chanyeol makes a vulgar motion with his hands, “him?”

Baekhyun’s face flushes lightly, “Not now,” he hisses, motioning for the pirates to follow him into the main body of the vessel and collapsing into one of the plush seats.

“So, are you going to explain what you’re doing so close to the Virgo Cluster?” The only unidentified pirate asks, seating himself on the floor (leaving the rest of the seats for the rest of them). Baëkhyun weaves around everyone and sits himself in Baekhyun’s lap, obviously put off by the new faces and in need of attention. Baekhyun wraps his arm around his clone securely, resting his chin on Baëkhyun’s shoulder.

“Had a job to do, Jongin,” Baekhyun responds, leaning forward to pull a bottle of drink from one of the compartments in the foot table in front of them. Jongdae gets out the glasses on auto-pilot, passing them around the table.

Chanyeol hums, “You must have been the one in Saffar, then?”

“Ah, the assassinations,” Kyungsoo recalls, “who bought it?”

“Virgo Conference, who else. They want to recolonize the Andromedae. To my understanding, they have a few city-planets being designed.”

“Already?”

“Well, they’ll be cleansing the planet of the native Saffarians at any point in time now that the Regime’s been toppled,” Kyungsoo reasons. “Sounds about right for the Virgo Conference. They’re so easily influenced by the human way of doing things.”

“And what way is that,” Jongin and Jongdae both say, somewhat petulantly.

The other four aliens glance their way, but it’s Baekhyun who explains. “Humans are very destructive. You’re a war-like species. A _total_ war, type of species.” And Chanyeol goes on to pull up a whole bunch of examples of humans being the aggressors of the universe. Baekhyun then continues, “You’ve gotten better, in that, you’re quieter, more diplomatic about it, but your money is still buying mercenaries, it’s still destabilizing whole planetary governments. And Earth’s people may be blind to the evils their military commit, but the rest of the universe is not.”

“I think you’re looking at our ways from a distinctly foreign frame of mind. Not all humans _are_ xenophobic war-hawks. In fact, the majority are not.”

“Then that’s all fine for you,” Baekhyun says, “I’m only explaining what Baëkhyun and I were doing so far from our typical realm of influence. I’m a mercenary, Kim, I don’t really care _what_ your people are doing, how they are acting. We’re all criminals here.”

Chanyeol redirects the conversation, explaining that he, Kyungsoo, and Jongin accosted them due to their own ship troubles. They were in need of a new vessel and though Baekhyun’s ship is small, they figured it’d fit the three of them just fine. They can still _fit_ , Baekhyun ends up saying, it just won’t be comfortable.

And so, Jongdae _thinks_ their party of three has just become a party of six. It’s hard to tell exactly. Baekhyun doesn’t quite talk in _commital_ terms. He just throws things up in the air and assumes you understand his meaning. It’s the result of having a flippant, confidant personality.

But then, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo are getting up to go fetch some supplies off of their ship before they ditch the damaged hunk of scrap metal permanently. So, there’s his confirmation that they’ll now all be crammed up together. _Wonderful_.

“So, where is it you’ve got to get in a hurry, then?” Jongin says, the only pirate to stay behind, lax and languid in his seat. His gaze roves over Baëkhyun curiously. Unlike Kyungsoo, who’d obviously expressed some sort of distaste for Baekhyun and his clones… touchiness, Jongin seems interested by it.

“Heading back to Dulcinea. We’ve been out flying for a while, and I’m beginning to miss home,” Baekhyun says, the most honest he’s sounded since Jongdae’s ever met him. “Would like to go check up on Taeyeon and some of my other friends. And of course, there’s Minseok,” he nearly purrs.

“Your morals are always so upstanding when it comes to sex,” Kyungsoo mutters, returning to lounge in time to catch the tailwind of Baekhyun’s sentence. “First you were fucking your boss and now you’re fucking your clone. You’re depraved. You weren’t fucking your manager as well back then?”

Baekhyun laughs, but he shakes his head. “I’m professional enough,” he says.

“I’m missing something here, but,” Jongin says, then trails off. “Isn’t it best we get moving if y’all’ve packed everything up?”

Baekhyun nods, patting Baëkhyun’s thigh and beckoning him up off of his lap. Then, he disappears up into the cockpit, leaving Jongdae and Baëkhyun alone with the three pirates once more.

“So, who are _you_?” Chanyeol asks now that Baekhyun’s left the room. “‘Cause I sense some _tension_.”

“Jongdae Kim. I was a Virgo Ambassador to Saffar.”

The pirates raise their brows, curiosity piqued. “Did they kidnap you?”

“They found me,” Jongdae explains. “I had ship troubles back when the Virgo Conference first pulled all of its diplomatic relations out of the Andromedae. They unfroze me.”

“That must mean they have a reason to use you?” Kyungsoo says, glancing at Baëkhyun.

Baëkhyun shrugs, “We’re bringing him back to Boss to see if there’s anything he’s useful for. All his credentials are still valid, after all.”

The ship jolts back into propelled motion, and Baekhyun returns to the lounge, looking between everyone. “I’m not stopping to drop you off anywhere,” he says to the three pirates. “You’ll have to buy or steal a new ship on Dulcinea. Minseok might be able to set you up with one.”

“I’d rather not work for your criminal boyfriend,” Kyungsoo says. Jongin seems curious enough, though, asking what he might be hiring for. Baekhyun doesn’t answer, and Chanyeol smacks the youngest on the shoulder until he stops talking. “Now, sleeping arrangements,” Kyungsoo says. “Your ship’s small as fuck.”

“It’s not meant to fit more than three, and those two may as well count for double since they’re so tall,” Baekhyun argues, pointing at Chanyeol and Jongin both. “You three can share the guest room and lounge if you want. I can fit the three of us,” he motions at Baëkhyun and Jongdae both, “in the master.”

Jongdae’s tongue feels like cotton. He’s really not sure about being stuck in an even smaller confined space with the other two, but he’s even less familiar with the three pilots, so maybe it’s for the best.

Baekhyun leads them both back to the master, where Baëkhyun immediately climbs into the large sleeping pod, curling up amongst hand-woven blankets. Baekhyun motions to the couch in the room and grabs a blanket from the closet. “You can sleep here, for now,” he says, “It should only be a couple more weeks until we’re flying into Dulcinea. This ship flies fast.”

Jongdae nods, taking the offered blanket from Baekhyun’s hand and flopping down onto the couch.

Baekhyun crawls into the sleeping pod, activating the lock that shuts the top of it and conceals he and Baëkhyun from the rest of the room. Jongdae’s thankful. It helps him sleep knowing they can’t see him and he can’t see them.

***

“We’ll be landing in a few days,” Baekhyun says one night. Baëkhyun’s showering, leaving the two of them alone. “Chanyeol and Co. will be ditching to go find a ship. They were on a job when their last one broke down, so once they do that, we’ll be back down to three,” he explains, looking significantly soothed by the fact that the pirates will no longer be traveling with them.

“Boss is out of town for the moment, so there’s a little delay in getting you to meet him, but… until then we’ll be staying at my suite. If everyone’s on good behavior, I can show you around the city as well.”

“Dulcibella, right?”

“Yes, the capital city,” Baekhyun confirms. “And seeing as you are an ambassador, I figured you might like to get a look at the culture.” He’s right, Jongdae became a diplomat because he enjoyed observing other ways of life; because he enjoyed adapting to things that were original unfamiliar. And now that Baekhyun’s put exploring on the table, Jongdae feels a flicker of what might even be considered _excitement_.

Jongdae grins, “That sounds… nice.” He doesn’t really know what else to say about it. He and Baekhyun _aren’t_ close by any means, but the little compromise seems to be a peace offering in some strange sense. “I really am curious to see what your home planet is like. I wonder if it’s all that similar to Earth seeing as Dulcis and humans have such similar looks.”

Baekhyun cocks his head, “I wonder,” he echoes, glancing at the mirror. In the faint glow of the lamps, the difference between them is palpable. Baekhyun’s skin catches the light and seems to shine beneath it (a realistic glamor, much like if a woman’s highlighter makeup catches the sunlight) whereas Jongdae’s skin absorbs it, isn’t as well illuminated. Similarly, the difference in Baekhyun’s anatomy (the long lines of ligament that accentuate his neck and collarbones, slightly more muscled, more defined than Jongdae’s) is highlighted by the different values cast by the light, with the divots cast into dark shadow.

Dulcis could pass for human, but they’d be seen as extraordinarily striking. There’s just something about the alien that _captivates_. It’s why they made such good performers. It’s why their system is _famously_ peaceful—allies with all. People reward beauty, and Baekhyun’s people are a gorgeous people.

“When we land, please keep close, though,” Baekhyun says. “If you take off running, there will be consequences. There is not a place you could hide on Dulcinea. Not from me. Especially not from Boss,” Baekhyun sounds more tired than threatening, like he _has_ to say this. “There will be a driver waiting for us. Treat him respectfully and there’ll be no issues. Promise you’ll behave?”

It’s a little comical that Jongdae’s captor is asking Jongdae for promises, but...

“I promise,” Jongdae says, agreeing.

***

“Thanks for the lift,” Chanyeol yells, practically racing down the docking staircase. Kyungsoo’s a bit slower, but he also thanks Baekhyun.

Jongin’s a little more realistic, “Thanks for not kicking us off after we broke in!” And then he’s also gone. Baekhyun had secured them a driver, tipping the poor woman for having to deal with the three, and so, in the next minute, they’re gone, the car pulling away from the loading zone.

Leaving Baekhyun’s driver.

Baekhyun’s still packing some of his personals, like weapons and clothes that he’d like to take off board (but he’s also leaving a vast amount of items, since the vessel is private and will just be returned to a hangar—unsearched). So, in the meantime, Jongdae chats with Baëkhyun, who he’s noticed has been quieter since the pirates had joined their journey.

“Baekhyun was telling me that we might get to go out and explore a bit,” he says, in an effort to cheer Baëkhyun up, knowing Baëkhyun has only been in Dulcibella for a very short time anyways.

But Baëkhyun’s mood doesn’t grow any lighter. If anything, what Jongdae’s said has only made him more morose.

So, Jongdae drops the topic and waits awkwardly for Baekhyun to reappear and lead them down to the driver. Which he does a few minutes later. There, he takes the passenger seat, leaving Baëkhyun and Jongdae to slide into the backseat.

“Hello,” Baekhyun greets the driver, his tone easy, affectionate even. The older man grins in kind, reaching over to ruffle Baekhyun’s hair playfully. They must be close, then. “Would you please take us to my suite. And be on call in the next few days, I think I’ll be going out a lot more than usual.”

“Of course, Sir,” the driver says, refocusing his attention on driving the huvtransit out of its bay and onto the streets.

On first impression, Jongdae’s decided that Dulcibella is… the _pinnacle_ of science fiction. It is laden with advertising, holograms, and hover cars. People of all species walk the streets and sit in the restaurants that the huvtransit flits on by—aliens, human, and native Dulcis. It’s bright, its _alive_. Jongdae instantly loves it. It’s so much different from the agricultural colony he’d been calling home prior to this. This is what he’s always hope space to be like.

They stop at an intersection, giving Jongdae a chance to look around for real. And… well he’s surprised to recognize the face on the nearest billboard. “That’s you,” he says, directing his statement at Baekhyun.

Baekhyun glances out the window, his jaw twitching when he catches sight of the billboard and the countdown it displays.

> **BYUN BAEKHYUN _‘THE EXHIBITION’_ HOLO-TOUR, TICKETS ON SALE IN 03:23:34**

He grimaces, looking away. Jongdae can’t take his eyes off of it though. Watches as the billboard changes and plays one of Baekhyun’s famed performances. And then, it flickers back to the countdown and Jongdae frowns. “You must not have approved that, huh?”

“No,” Baekhyun says. “But, the company does what the company wants. Fuck integrity.”

Jongdae wisely doesn’t bring up the plethora of other ‘BAEKHYUN’ ads he sees during the rest of their journey. And Baekhyun, thankfully, doesn’t seem to remain angry for long.

They arrive at a sky-high building. He glances at the tower’s name labelling the top of the pavilion overhanging its doorway. It, like many of the advertisements here in Dulcibella, is written in Common. So, Jongdae can read that they’ve arrived at Capital Tower. Baekhyun gets out, then pops open the door for Jongdae and Baëkhyun. He remains ducked inside, talking to the driver, but both Baëkhyun and Jongdae get out and take a look around.

Dulcibella’s _cold_ , with a perpetually icy sort of breeze. Jongdae likes it after so many years in Saffar. He hates it because it reminds him of the damn cryogenic pods.

Baekhyun shuts his door, turning around and striding right into the tower. Security looks up at him, but recognizing him, they immediately avert their gazes. Baekhyun keys them into the elevator and up to his suite.

His style is minimalistic and neat; the flat is well-lit, and speakers immediately calibrate to play Baekhyun a playlist of musical tunes. Baëkhyun appears more than familiar with the place, disappearing from the lounge down some long hallway.

“Bedrooms are down the hall,” Baekhyun tells him, following Jongdae’s curious gaze. “As are bathrooms if you want to shower or bathe or something.”

Jongdae nods. He _would_ like to freshen up. “I’ll do that,” he says. Baekhyun hums in acknowledgement, but makes no effort to continue conversation. So, apparently there’s no time better than the present for Jongdae to go clean up.

When he gets out of the shower, he’s surprised to see a stack of neatly folded clothes waiting for him on the sink-counter and, after drying himself off, is even further shocked to see that the clothes fit him perfectly. Baekhyun must have a security scanner somewhere in his apartment that was capable of taking Jongdae’s measurements. Again, Jongdae’s hit by just how wealthy Baekhyun is here in Dulcibella. It helps explain why his ship was so nice, too.

He mills about in his room for a little. There’s a desktop computer set up there, so Jongdae takes the time to sign into his accounts and check up on his statuses. His credentials are, like Baëkhyun had mentioned during their journey, all still in-tact, but he does have restricted access to the open web of communications. He doesn’t know if it’s Baekhyun’s doing (for security purposes) or if it was the Conference’s doing after he went missing. But, he is still able to search for things and read articles from news organizations.

The first thing he can think of to look up is Saffar and whatever had happened to it. The following articles all detail a clean, quick assassination of all of the Regime’s most influential faces _and_ the swift mobilization of Conference troops to go fill the vacuum the Regime had left.

The next is Baekhyun. Most of the top articles are news about the Hologram Tour that his company’s putting on, but the articles beneath that have a great range of topics. Some are merely looking back at Baekhyun’s legacy and all of his successes, others detail the criminal negligence investigations that followed his death in concert.

_His death in concert?_

The next article is a retelling of what went wrong at the concert. Jongdae clicks on that one. He reads through the preparations. How the stage design was changed at the last minute. Reads the interview with Baekhyun’s manager, Kim Taeyeon, where she relates how she’d warned him and tried to have the concert delayed. Reads about Baekhyun’s stubborn desire to keep the visuals at the expense of safety for the sake of having his music properly digested.

His eyes widen when he reads that the accident was broadcast live across the Delphini Cluster and that the ensuing backlash prompted a medical lab to attempt to revive the singer.

So, that’s the medical malpractice Baekhyun must have mentioned. _Damn_. The article continues, mentioning Baekhyun’s attempt to go onstage again around a year later—where he subsequently panicked in front of the crowds and the show had to be cancelled anyways. And then, the article remarks, Baekhyun goes dark. He stops showing up in public for the most part. People mention spotting him, but for the most part, he remains an enigma now.

The door to his room slides open. Jongdae can’t click off the tab quickly enough, so, he just turns to see who it is at the door.

As luck would have it, Baekhyun’s leaning in the doorway, dark eyes scanning Jongdae’s guilty face and then, the bright screen display. “Prying isn’t very polite,” he says, but he sounds tired, not angry. “I’m taking Baëkhyun out to eat at a restaurant I’m fond of. Would you like to come or would you like me to lock you in here?”

Jongdae stands up. “I’ll come,” he says. Baekhyun tosses him a coat.

Baëkhyun waits in the foyer, dressed in a glittering, silken shirt and blue-leather pants. His hair has been pulled into a low pony-tail, whispy and clean. He looks striking, much more so than Baekhyun, who is dressed in all black with a pair of rose-colored circular lenses sat on the bridge of his nose and his hair tightly knotted at the back of his head. Baëkhyun wears jewelry, Baekhyun does not.

Baekhyun leads them outside the building. There’s not car waiting for them. It looks like they’ll be walking.

Dulcibella is something of a sensory overload, Jongdae learns very quickly. It’s glamorous and exciting, sure, but each advertisement talks all at once. Each store front buzzes with different colors and sounds and activity. Each _person_ speaks a different language, walks a different pace, talks a different volume. All too quickly, Jongdae’s feeling somewhat overwhelmed.

“This place is nothing like Earth,” Jongdae murmurs eventually. Baëkhyun glances his way, eyes glittering curiously.

“How so?”

“Well, even in the biggest cities we never had this much… _noise_. I don’t know, Earth just generally isn’t as heterogeneous a place as just this city is.”

“Dulcibella is an interstellar trading hub,” Baekhyun explains, “hence the diversity. And most of the galaxy clusters here on this side of the universe tend to be more passive than the Virgo Conference. We operate under a lot of don’t ask don’t tell, so we aren’t ever trying to exact our morals on other worlds—if that makes sense?”

Jongdae nods, “It does. The Conference was still discussing free trade when I was frozen. I don’t know what it’s like now, but… even though we were all allies, working together and benefiting together was not all that common.”

Baekhyun hums. He understands. “A lot of the difference has to do with criminal influences as well, though. Here in the Cervantes System, pretty much all of our politics are controlled by Scylla. Which also controls the vast majority of the entire Delphini Cluster. Hence why we all get along.”

“Ah,” Jongdae says, “And Scylla deals in what?”

“Soft-power and extortion mostly. Interstellar drug trafficking, weapons trafficking, resource smuggling. Whatever fetches their fancy,” Baekhyun says, then leads them through a doorway. Jongdae peers at the restaurant sign, but can’t read the language denoting its name. In any case, the restaurant is delightful. It has a stage for live music, upon which there’s already someone playing the piano and singing into the mic.

Baekhyun seats them at a booth in the corner of the restaurant, though not before waving to the hostess in greeting. She appears a minute later and swipes her card to activate the holo-menu above their table and then launches into the day’s specials. Jongdae sits back, listening but not really _understanding_. Most of the foods and drinks she mentions them having aren’t at all familiar to him.

For what it’s worth, Baëkhyun appears to be in the same boat, like this is just as new for him as it is for Jongdae. So, while the hostess talks to Baekhyun about what they’ll order, Jongdae turns his attention to Baëkhyun.

“Do you like the music?” he asks, keeping things light.

Baëkhyun nods, “That’s Kim Junmyeon singing,” he says. “Baekhyun gets me his signed albums sometimes.”

“Oh? Then you’re a fan?”

“Certainly,” Baëkhyun says, looking over at the musician dreamily. “I love a good singer,” he continues.

And Jongdae’s not quite sure what possesses him to say, “Oh, I sing too,” in response to that, but he does. Baëkhyun quirks a brow, while Baekhyun openly snorts in amusement.

“Trying to impress someone?” Baëkhyun teases, fluttering his lashes.

Jongdae immediately blushes, “Ah, I- well, I didn’t mean it like _that_ ,” he says, trying to save face. Baëkhyun laughs, but lets him off the hook, returning his attention to the singer on stage.

“Well, you should sing for us one day,” Baëkhyun says. Jongdae blinks, then looks away, his gaze landing right on Baekhyun, who nods as if agreeing with his clone.

“I’m sure you’ve got a plethora of Earthside tunes you could introduce us to,” Baekhyun says, “and we are both so fond of music. It would be a treat.” He holds Jongdae’s gaze until Jongdae can’t handle the intensity and looks away again.

Back at the singer. At that point the table goes quiet, Baëkhyun focused on the performance, Baekhyun scanning the restaurant crowd (seemingly _always_ on edge), and Jongdae stubbornly avoiding both of them.

A waiter approaches with three drinks. Baekhyun picks a bright pink, bubbling glass and slides a similar light blue liquid over to Baëkhyun. Leaving Jongdae with a dark, purple drink. Wine?

Indeed.

He’s pleasantly surprised. “Where’d they get wine?”

“Imported. It’s ridiculously expensive, though, so don’t expect it often,” Baekhyun says, swirling his drink around then taking a sip. “Earth has a lot of tastes that are popular here in Dulcibella.”

“Like?”

“Strawberries, cherries, really most of your fruits are quite popular. Wine and beer as well. Some of your meat—like beef or venison—is here too. But all are luxuries. It costs a lot of fuel to get them here.”

Jongdae’s surprised, but happily so. He sips his wine, more than pleased with the familiar flavor. The musician’s set finishes and Kim Junmyeon stands up, his eyes immediately falling on their table.

Jongdae averts his gaze when the singer comes close and then, presses into the booth alongside Baekhyun, across from both Jongdae and Baëkhyun (who looks dazzled already). “When did _you_ get back in town?” He asks. Kim Junmyeon has a smooth, romantic quality of voice. The type that suits any genre.

Baekhyun smiles, “Today. Baëkhyun and I are here to check-in with Minseok again,” he says. “And, see if Jongdae’s any use to him.”

Junmyeon looks up at Jongdae, quirking a brow. He sticks out a hand, “Kim Junmyeon—it’s nice to meet you.” Which Jongdae returns immediately. Then, Junmyeon’s turning his attention to Baëkhyun, bopping the clone’s nose playfully. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Been busy,” Baëkhyun murmurs dreamily, letting Junmyeon card his fingers through his hair. Jongdae’s sure that if Baëkhyun were a cat, he’d be purring right about now. “Hyun-ah got a job and you know I can’t ever tell him ‘no’,” Baëkhyun continues.

“You don’t even like Baekhyun’s business,” Junmyeon agrees. “But I’d be hard pressed to turn him down _too_.”

“Baëkhyun would much rather sit around and look pretty. He was made to be a star, after all,” Baekhyun says, voice tight.

Baëkhyun glances at Baekhyun, then lets his eyes flutter shut once more, much more interested in receiving attention from Junmyeon than reigniting some argument with Baekhyun.

“You were too,” Junmyeon murmurs, but he too wisely chooses not to go any further into it with Baekhyun. “Anyways, who’s this Jongdae you’re hanging out with? Someone I should know?” He asks, reinviting Jongdae into the conversation.

“Probably not,” Jongdae says.

Baekhyun hums, agreeing. “Kim Jongdae’s an Ambassador of the Virgo Conference. Figured Boss would want something to do with him.”

“Hm, is ‘Boss’ still trying to get a foothold there?” Junmyeon says, cocking his head.

“You know it,” Baekhyun says, rolling his eyes. “I’m not sure it’s worth, in my humble opinion. I mean, what about it makes him want it so bad?”

“I hear its militech is exceptional. What he should really do is exchange Delphini med-tech for Virgin militech,” Junmyeon says. “But then again, the Conference would get nervous. They don’t like the idea of any other galaxy being able to colonize _them_. Or, rather, rise up against them.”

“Boss doesn’t fund revolution.”

“He would if he stood to gain more than he lost. At some point, money becomes secondary to power. And your lover has definitely already reached that point. _You_ reached that point.”

Baekhyun tips his head, “I get your point. And that honestly might be the reason he _is_ interested in the Conference territories. But, I think it’s dumb when there’s so much more he could conquer.”

Junmyeon blinks, seemingly remembering that he was asking about Jongdae prior to his and Baekhyun’s little tangent. “So, are you a traitor, in that case?” He asks, referencing how far Jongdae’s from home and the type of people he’s with. Very few ambassadors would seek out mercenaries so blatantly. Very few ambassadors would travel so far from their assignment.

Of their own volition. “I’m a _prisoner_ ,” Jongdae corrects. “I’d very much like to be _home_ , right now. But these two insisted on visiting Dulcinea.”

Junmyeon’s lip twitches, a strange glint in his eyes. Then, he leans back, withdrawing his hand from Baëkhyun’s hair. “Well, in that case, I’ll take my leave. I’m not going to be seen with some kidnapped ambassador. Especially an ambassador for the Virgo Conference.”

He pats Baëkhyun on the head as he leaves, and then, a silence falls over the table.

Jongdae doesn’t apologize for being the reason Junmyeon leaves. Baekhyun doesn’t seem to expect him to.

But Baëkhyun seems hurt. Jongdae _does_ feel a little pang at that. But it’s gone as quick as it had come.

The waiter appears, setting their food down on the table. Baekhyun scans his card on the system machine, then, scans the waiter’s personal tipping code. The waiter thanks them, then disappears to serve some other table.

“So, your boss… why has he had so much trouble getting involved in the Conference. To my understanding, we have plenty of interstellar criminals within our borders.”

“Hm? Oh, well, unlike you, he’s a traitor. They’ve wanted him dead for years. And he’s had enough narrow escapes to realize he has to take a different approach now.”

“And that is?”

“Diplomacy. He wants to cut them a deal, get in the door, then stab them in the back,” Baekhyun explains, “I think it’ll get him killed. He’s gotten used to being on top of the world and arrogance is a hell of a blinder.”

“If it brings you any solace, the Conference is just as proud. They’ll probably be evenly matched for their hubris.”

“Perhaps,” Baekhyun agrees, skewering a piece of meat on what is essentially a sharpened chopstick and holding it out for Baëkhyun to eat. Jongdae takes this time to taste whatever Baekhyun’s ordered for him. It’s rich and flavorful, and pairs nicely—if unexpectedly—with his wine.

“So, how is it that you know Junmyeon? Did you work together in the past?” He asks.

“Actually, no. Junmyeon was in a group back then. We knew of each other, but not well,” Baekhhyun explains. “He started dating my ex, though, so when I invited Sehun over for drinks Junmyeon came along too.”

“Oh Sehun?”

“You know him?”

“He models on Earth at times, doesn’t he?”

Baekhyun pauses, seemingly trying to recall. “Mhm, yeah, I think he does. He’s half-blood, part Dulci, part human. Makes him excessively attractive in both systems.”

“Dulcis are popular on Earth too, you know. I think he’d be fine if he was _all_ Dulci.”

“No, it wouldn’t be the same,” Baekhyun argues. “Perhaps, in your circles, it’s like that. And musically, your people probably _do_ appreciate Dulcis, but they’re still not fond of aliens. I think it’s the years of science fiction horror your artists released. Otherworldly beings still make your people wary.” He shrugs, “And there’s really nothing wrong with that. Or at least, I don’t care.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve been on Earth that I really couldn’t tell you if you were wrong.”

“I’m not wrong,” he says confidently, “but, if you’d like to have some faith in your homeland, please do feel free to.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes, returning his attention to his plate. He notices Baëkhyun’s quiet, but really doesn’t know what he could say to invite Baëkhyun to speak up and participate in the conversation more.

When they leave, hunger satiated, Baekhyun leads them back to the tower, saying they’ll explore some other day.

Jongdae collapses in his bed, out in an instant.

***

In the time he’s with Baekhyun and his clone, it’s almost easy to forget they’re both mercenaries. That they’re both criminals. In Dulcibella, at least, they seem fairly reserved. They act like regular citizens, elite citizens even, and never like the dregs of society. But, there are times when that becomes apparent.

Jongdae’s gotten used to Baekhyun’s swift changes of mood. Has learned to _expect_ Baekhyun to go from smiling to deadly silence. It’s become a usual occurrence, a familiar occurrence. Seeing Baëkhyun go from that playful, almost mischievous character to one of stoic silence is much less common. But not impossible.

They had gone out that evening for business (and didn’t want to leave Jongdae alone at the flat, lest he leave). About half-way to the rendezvous, Jongdae realizes _business_ is not going to be the clean-sort he’s used to. “What are you going to get?” He asks, careful to keep his voice low.

Baëkhyun answers him, “We’re not getting anything. Just checking in on someone for Boss.”

Ten minutes later sees them standing outside of a bar. The street’s alive with drunks and prostitutes, a far cry from the opulence that is in the wealthier part of Dulcibella. Baekhyun leans against a brick wall. Baëkhyun plays ball with a group of kids on the street.

They stick out like sore thumbs in their expensive clothing, with high-grade weapons slung over their back. But instead of inviting confrontation, their appearance seems to keep most of the street at bay.

A sleek black car, similar to the ones found on Earth (where all the wheels touch the ground), rolls up in front of the bar. Baëkhyun instantly stops playing his game, striding towards the car at the same pace Baekhyun steps away from the wall and walks up to the driver side door.

He raps his knuckles on the glass. The window does not open.

He slams his elbow into the corner of the car window, reaching in and dragging the driver half-way out. All of this executed in only a few seconds. “Unlock the car,” he says calmly.

Baëkhyun gets in the passenger seat and levels a pistol at the driver. Baekhyun and Jongdae both slip into the backseat. And there, they wait.

The passenger-side, back door opens and someone starts to slip into the car. The driver shouts something.

Baëkhyun shoots at the same time as Baekhyun hauls the stranger into the car, a wicked blade pressed to his throat. “Jongdae, why don’t you take us for a drive? Baëkhyun, clean up the driver’s seat, will you?”

Clean up seems to mean ‘Baëkhyun, will you dump the body out on the street for me?’

Jongdae slips into the driver’s seat. “Where are we going?” He asks, stunningly calm. He’s a diplomat. He’s well-accustomed to high-stress, high-threat situations such as this one.

“Just drive along the rode. Try not to hit anyone.”

In the following few minutes, Baekhyun delivers and absolutely _terrifying_ monologue about the consequences of stealing from the Organization. Threats not only to the man in the car with them, but also to his lovers, his children, his friends. It’s at that point that Jongdae remembers _what_ Baekhyun and his clone are. It’s that moment that he remembers their morals diverge in a very imperative manner. An unforgivable manner.

Baëkhyun speaks up then, “Now, we aren’t saying you _are_ stealing from Boss, but-” His tone of voice says that’s exactly what they’re saying. “We wanted to make sure you were familiar with the consequences should you ever conceive of doing that.”

“We can be very forgiving,” Baekhyun adds on, “but Boss really doesn’t have the time.” Jongdae peers through the rearview mirror, taking in the scene as Baekhyun leans back and relaxes. 

“Pull over,” he directs. Jongdae does. They all get out. Baekhyun props his arm on the door and leans back inside the car. “Tread carefully,” he warns the man. Then, he steps back and slams the door, already slipping his comm out of his pocket. They set off walking for a nearby corner.

There, they wait again, and a few minutes later, Baekhyun’s driver is pulling up.

They return to the tower, where Baëkhyun quickly goes to shower off the first driver’s blood. Jongdae goes to his room and lays out on the bed.

***

Even hours later, he can’t quite sleep, so he throws the blankets off his legs and leaves his room.

Jongdae enters the lounge only to stop in place, his lips parting in a soft, shocked gasp.Baëkhyun is naked, knelt beatifically between Baekhyun’s legs, hands on Baekhyun’s thighs.

Baekhyun’s gaze flits up to his, but it’s dazed—he’s clearly inebriated. Inebriated and _mad_. His face is cold, hedging on judgmental, even when his gaze returns to Baëkhyun’s.

“Is there something you need?” Baekhyun grits. Baëkhyun lets out a shakey moan at the thought that they have been interrupted, pulling off of Baekhyun’s cock in favor of mouthing at his clothed thigh. One of Baekhyun’s hands sits wrapped in Baëkhyun’s long hair, and it tightens cruelly, redirecting Baëkhyun back to his dick.

It’s not until Baekhyun’s letting out a soft sigh of his own that Jongdae remembers he’s been addressed. That Jongdae remembers he’s an _intruder_. He doesn’t know what to say, though. He’d only left his room because he could not sleep. Thought that perhaps switching to the couch might help him get some shut eye when his mind was racing over the events earlier in the day.

It doesn’t appear that that’s the case, now.

“I’ll just leave,” Jongdae says, taking a step back and colliding with the hallway threshold.

Baekhyun raises a brow, but doesn’t call out for him. His head rolls back, eyes open to the ceiling, as Baëkhyun continues to pleasure him.

But, before Jongdae can step away completely, Baëkhyun pulls off of Baekhyun and looks back at Jongdae. His eyes are half-lidded, lazy. His lips plump, wet with spit. His hair already matted to his head. “Why would you leave when you could _stay_?” he murmurs. “Don’t you want to watch?”

Jongdae _stares_.

“No, _no_. I don’t think that would be very smart-”

“Either stay or get out, Jongdae,” Baekhyun says, tone especially cutting. “Stop making excuses.”

“Do you want me to stay, or something?” Jongdae asks, eyes wide.

“I. Don’t. Care,” Baekhyun bites, groaning when Baëkhyun pumps his fist over his cock. “But, right now, you’re interrupting.”

And Jongdae really _should_ leave. Baekhyun and Baëkhyun aren’t exactly threats at this point (at least to him), but he _is_ still wary of them. He’s seen what they’re capable of. Knows thatBaekhyun’s prone to mood swings, prone to violence—and Baëkhyun’s _devoted_ to him, would do anything (even kill) for Baekhyun’s attention. He really can’t trust them. But…

He’d be lying if he said he’s not interested. There’s something about the adrenaline of being in the hands of the “enemy.” Something about that forbidden experience that excites him, has his blood pumping, his heart _thrumming_.

He steps back into the room.

Baëkhyun watches him, hungrily, then returns his gaze to Baekhyun, at which point it melts into mindless affection, mindless submission. Baekhyun does not return the emotion, his gaze is empty. “Go sit, Jongdae,” he says, nodding at the chair diagonal to the couch.

Jongdae sits, smoothing his hands down his thighs nervously. Baekhyun watches him for a moment, then returns to watching Baëkhyun. “Get me off,” he says.

But Baëkhyun whines, “I want to kiss you,” he says, eyelashes fluttering innocently. He, more than Baekhyun, is a series of contradictions. Innocent and raunchy, affectionate and cruel, sweet and sour.

Baekhyun holds his gaze for a long minute, then, just barely, cants his head in agreement. Baëkhyun surges up, settling beside Baekhyun. He twists his grip on Baekhyun’s cock, and mouths at his neck, his jaw, his chin, and then his lips.

Jongdae notices that Baekhyun doesn’t kiss back, not even when his lips part and he begins to moan in full, Baëkhyun edging him so close to bliss, but not tipping him over.

Baekhyun slides his hand up Baëkhyun’s chest, secures it at the base of his throat. It’s threatening, but Baëkhyun doesn’t appear afraid, even when Baekhyun squeezes to cut off his air. It’s strangely as gentle as it is rough. Jongdae sees the care Baekhyun takes to avoid crushing his clone’s windpipe.

He releases his hold as he tumbles over the edge, his body curling forward. Baëkhyun coughs, taking long, gasping breaths now that he’s able, but his hand never stops. It slows, guides Baekhyun down until he’s too oversensitive to enjoy it.

Baekhyun guides him off his lap, back down to the floor, and jerks his chin at Jongdae. “Now, why don’t you take care of him?” he says, his voice much gentler, much more relaxed now that he’s come. Almost sweet. He caresses Baëkhyun’s cheek just so, watching with dark eyes as the clone brings his hand up to his mouth and licks Baekhyun’s come off his fingers.

Then, Baëkhyun turns and faces Jongdae, who freezes under the attention.

He crawls over to Jongdae’s seat, standing up and straddling Jongdae’s lap. His hands smooth up Jongdae’s chest, tugging at his shirt playfully, teasingly. He’s the only one naked in the room, but he’s more in control than Jongdae, perhaps even more so than Baekhyun. “Do you like watching?” He murmurs, carding his fingers through Jongdae’s hair.

He’s gentle and sweet, despite the teasing motion of his hips, the degrading tone of his voice. Every touch is placed with care, and he seems aware enough not to overwhelm Jongdae.

“I do,” Jongdae breathes honestly, settling his hands on  Baëkhyun’s waist. Baëkhyun’s eyes flutter shut, a pleased little smile gracing his face. He practically melts against Jongdae. When he blinks his eyes open again, his gaze falls on Jongdae’s lips. 

For a moment, Jongdae thinks Baëkhyun is going to kiss him and he allows his eyes to slip shut in anticipation. But Baëkhyun only kisses his cheek and then, pulls back to gaze down at Jongdae playfully. He lifts himself up, grinding against Jongdae. Each swivel of his hips meant to chase more of his own pleasure than to pleasure Jongdae, but Jongdae can’t say he minds.

He’s willing to give Baëkhyun what he wants. What he _needs_. Because the longer Jongdae looks at his and Baekhyun’s relationship, the easier it is the recognize how they fail to satisfy one another.

Baëkhyun needs affection. Needs unadulterated _love_. And Baekhyun cannot, for whatever reason, love him like that. _Refuses_ to love him like that.

And Jongdae’s certainly getting ahead of himself, because nothing about their experience with the two of them is anything beyond superficial… _but_ Jongdae can play pretend just for now and give Baëkhyun what he craves.

“What do you want me to do?” He breathes, leaning forward to mouth at the clone’s neck, his hands tangling soothingly in Baëkhyun’s hair. “What do you need?” He continues, biting the junction of Baëkhyun’s throat and shoulder, reveling in the short little gasp it startles out of the clone.

“Touch me,” Baëkhyun murmurs, rocking against him.

“Where?”

Baëkhyun seeks out his hand and guides it to his dick, whining at the first stroke, from base to tip, that Jongdae gives him. “There,” he says, voice shaking, hips pressing up into Jongdae’s grip. “Right there.”

Jongdae indulges him, lips traveling down his chest and sucking at one of his nipples, pinching the other one between his fingers. Baëkhyun moans, ducking his head. His breath pants out across Jongdae’s face. He’s a _picture_ like this, shaking under Jongdae’s touch.

His hands drop down to Jongdae’s pants and slip the waistband just far enough down that he can free Jongdae’s cock and grip it in hand.

Jongdae drops his hand down too, gently knocking away Baëkhyun’s hand before he wraps his grip around them both. They moan in tandem as he finds a rhythm. “Faster, _please_ ,” Baëkhyun gasps, wrenching his hands in Jongdae’s hair, holding him suffocatingly close. Jongdae responds in kind, breathing out sweet little encouragements as he speeds his hand.

Baëkhyun falls apart first, shaking as his orgasm crests. The sight of it pushes Jongdae over the edge, and he holds Baëkhyun tightly as he comes, burying his face in the clone’s neck.

Baëkhyun laughs breathlessly a beat later, straightening up and slipping off of Jongdae’s lap. Jongdae flops back against the seat, eyes slipping shut as he regains his breath. He listens as Baëkhyun crawls back into Baekhyun’s lap, whispering teasing little remarks as he does so. Listens to Baekhyun pour more drink from the bottle on the coffee-table into his glass. Waits until everything is silent apart from the occasional clink of Baekhyun’s glass returning to the table and Baëkhyun’s soft, cat-like snores before he opens his eyes.

Baekhyun catches his gaze, apathetic.

Jongdae could get up, could go back to his room right now and pretend this never happened. But, his curiosity’s been piqued. “Why do you hate him?”

Baekhyun blinks. For a moment, Jongdae almost thinks he’s wrong. Thinks that Baekhyun will say he _doesn’t_ hate Baëkhyun. But Jongdae’s always been observant. He’s not wrong.

“He reminds me that I can be replaced at any time,” Baekhyun says. “He was _made_ to replace me. Hell, he _wants_ to replace me—deep down.” Something in his voice breaks, and then, it’s like everything is tumbling out—and at the core of it all, Jongdae hears _fear_ , not hate. “I used to be… _the_ star. I had it all. An ace-musician,” he says, “and when I _died_ people didn’t care about _me_ the person, they cared about me the _product._ ”

Jongdae doesn’t speak. He’s not sure he’s been invited to.

“And when I was revived, not only did I get told that, but I _also_ got told they’d made another of me. A doll for them to use however they pleased,” he spits, eyes glimmering with tears. Jongdae notes that he doesn’t raise his voice, though. Everything is spoken in a harsh whisper. He doesn’t want to wake Baëkhyun. “They _stole me_! My mind, my body, my talent, my loves, my dreams. They _stole_ it!”

His gaze falls down to Baëkhyun and he bites his lip savagely, as if physically restraining himself from screaming at the clone. From really letting him know how he feels. From letting him hear how much Baekhyun hates him.

As quickly as Baekhyun loses control, he reins it back in, letting his face melt back into the blank, stoic anger. “I wanted them to kill him. The first time I saw him. I wanted them to kill him and they told me they couldn’t. That it wouldn’t be humane. That it would be murder.” He shrugs, almost laughing now, “I murder people _now_. Got into the business because it makes me feel alive. The self-hate that follows every kill. It makes me feel like I _am_ real. And yet, I’ve never pulled the trigger on him.”

“You care about him.”

“I don’t want to die again,” Baekhyun corrects him calmly, “and I would _feel_ like I had if I did kill him. I kill people for the emotion it brings. I’m afraid if I kill him I won’t feel anything after that.”

He pets Baëkhyun’s head idly, silent for several minutes. The last thing he says is, “I’m selfish, I’m afraid, and I’m _possessive_ , Kim Jongdae. Be careful.”

Jongdae stands, understanding he’s been told to leave. He has nothing else to say, either, so he leaves, returning to his room.

His sleep is fitful that night.

***

When he re-enters the lounge the next morning, the ghost of last night’s experience hangs over him like a cloud. And really, this entrance isn’t all that different in terms of shock-value.

Because there’s someone _new_ here. And Jongdae _does_ recognize him.

Kim Minseok, age twenty-seven last Jongdae saw him, was graduate of the Military Academy in the Antares System, same class as Jongdae. Both of them went into diplomacy. Jongdae was assigned to Saffar, in the nearby Andromedae system. And Minseok was assigned to one of the planets in the Menkar solar system in the far off Cetus star system.

And he’s sat on Baekhyun’s couch looking as if he _owns_ the place, ankle crossed over his knee, glass of bubbly drink in hand, Baekhyun and clone’s heads in his lap. At Jongdae’s appearance, his gaze flicks up.

Recognition flits across his face. “Kim Jongdae. I can’t say I expected to see you here,” he says, practically drawling the words. And this really is quite awkward because Minseok and he had been… close back at school. And this is bringing all of those memories back.

“I could say the same,” Jongdae says, equally cooly. He takes great care to school his face before walking further into the room and sinking into the same chair Baëkhyun had gotten him off in just last night. “Figured you were still doing work at your assignment. Or, had since been assigned elsewhere.”

“Mhm, no. The Conference and I are at odds, and have been for quite a while.”

“What’d you do?”

“Hm? Oh, I decided I wasn’t going to work for a panel of fools. Made some friends in Menkar and was prepared to leave it at that, but they tried to off me and well… I don’t take too kindly to things like that,” Minseok drawls, “thought I’d better make them regret their choices.”

“How are you still alive?” Jongdae asks next, because really, even with light-speed, interstellar travel Minseok _should_ look a little older, if _not_ dead by now.

“Dulcinea’s got a great many medical achievements up its sleeve. I’ve taken full advantage of them. Really, I should ask the same of you?”

“Cryogenics. Ship broke down and if I wanted to survive I had to consciously die for a few hundred years. I wouldn’t say that’s the most comfortable medical advancement, but, it served its purpose, didn’t it?”

Minseok nods, agreeing. Baekhyun though, looks over, his gaze oddly candid.

“I assume you’re Boss, then?” Jongdae says, figuring it’s best they get to the heart of things.

Minseok leans back and once again, Jongdae’s struck both by how much he’s changed and… how little. His skin’s still young, unblemished. His eyes are dark, observant. His hair’s cropped a manageable length, not too short, but not long. And his entire demeanor suggests that Minseok’s been running things for a long while. And triumphantly so. “I am. And, I see you’ve met my Baekhyuns,” he says.

“Could’ve gone without. All they’ve done is taken me farther from where I want to be.”

“And where’s that?”

“Earth.”

Minseok arches one square brow, “Well, you’re in luck. I happen to want the same thing is you.”

Jongdae shakes his head. That’s definitely not true, but… it’s best he not argue right now. After all, Minseok’s probably his only chance of getting home anyways. “And _how_ do you plan on getting that?”

“I want _you_ to flex your little diplomatic powers and get me an ‘in.’”

“I’ll need time to reconnect with my superiors in the Conference and see just how much influence I still have. But, I doubt I’ll be able to do any significant good remotely.”

“Well, when the time comes. I’ll arrange you an escort back to your Sun. But, I’m sure you understand that I can’t just… blindly trust you. So, until you can show me something… substantial, here is where you’ll stay.”

“Can’t you buy him an apartment?” Baekhyun murmurs. Minseok cards his fingers through his hair.

“Mhm, no. I think you need a little human interaction outside of just Baëkhyun,” Minseok says. Then, he stands, nudging both Baekhyun and his clone out of place. “I’ll arrange for his access to get lifted somewhat. Everything will be monitored. In the meantime, you’re going to have to deal with him. I have business to take care of.”

Baekhyun groans, but he doesn’t argue.

Jongdae reaches out and grabs Minseok’s wrist before he can breeze past him. “Can we talk?” he practically hisses through his teeth.

Minseok stares at him, then nods and leads him out onto the balcony. Inside, Jongdae can spot Baëkhyun watching them curiously.

“I’m not a traitor,” Jongdae starts with. “I want to make that very clear. Because when it comes down to it, I’m going to protect my homeland long before I ever cede to you.”

“You say that, but that’s just because you’ve been in a tomb for a few hundred years. Do some research, reconnect with your friends, and see if you still think that way,” Minseok says, still so lazily arrogant, so sure of himself.

Jongdae shakes his head. “No. You know the saying, ’’My country, right or wrong; if right, to be kept right; and if wrong, to be set right.’ I’m not going to betray them, even if they are corrupt.”

Minseok holds his gaze, tension evident all through his frame. Jongdae’s unceasing loyalty against his own feelings of betrayal.

Jongdae steps close to him, “I’m telling you this now so that when I inevitably stab you in the back, you cannot say you didn’t have any warning.”

“I could kill you now,” Minseok says easily. “Could throw you off this very balcony. Could have one of my boys strangle you in your sleep. Do you really think it’s wise to be making threats?”

“I know you probably better than you know me, Minseok. After all, for me, all our experiences together are only a decade or so in the past. For you they must be centuries old, hm?” Jongdae steps back, putting space between them. “You won’t kill me because you don’t think anyone can beat you at this point. You think you’ve seen every possible outcome. You think you’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger. And the simple truth is… you don’t.”

Minseok shakes his head. “You’re toeing the line.”

“So, what?” Jongdae says, shrugging. He’s confident now. If Minseok were to kill him, he’d have done so already. But, his read on the ex-ambassador’s character is correct, just as he thought it would be. “I said I’d help you. To a point. But I want something more out of it. Something comparable to what you stand to gain.”

“You’re starting to sound like a greedy motherfucker, but go on.”

“Am I?” Jongdae says, cocking his head. “If I beat you at your own game, we become a blank slate. Not enemies, but not friends. Strangers. You hear me? You don’t come after me, you don’t come after anyone dear to me. I don’t come after you. And if we so happen to meet again… well, isn’t it just fate at that point.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Sake of reliving old memories, don’t you think?”

Minseok holds his stare and then. “Fine. It’s a deal.” Minseok leaves Jongdae on the balcony, where he stays gazing out across the soft lilac sky, the smallest of smiles gracing his lips.

Because he’s going to win, and that’s the best possible outcome for _all_ of them.


	2. Chapter 2

“Where’s Baëkhyun?” Jongdae asks one evening. He’s sat in the lounge, a laptop and holo-screen set up in front of him when he notices that the clone’s been uncharacteristically absent.

Baekhyun, who’s stood at the grand panel windows, illuminated by the silver sunlight outside, turns Jongdae’s way. “He’s with Taeyeon tonight. She’s very fond of him.”

“How many lovers do you two have?”

“They aren’t lovers. Baëkhyun just likes the attention she’s willing to give him. I think she misses what I used to be like,” Baekhyun says. Jongdae eyes him warily, because toeing into a conversation about the Baekhyun of the past versus the Baekhyun of the present is like playing with fire. And Jongdae has no interest in getting burned.

He rolls out a crick in his neck, “It doesn’t bother you that he’s spending time with her, then?”

“Hm? No, it does, but I’m not here to make him miserable. He’s not… he’s not trying to make me miserable even though-” he trails off, walking past Jongdae’s spot on the couch and over to the bar-counter.

“Boss wants me take you on a job later. Wants me to trial how good of a negotiator you really are,” Baekhyun says instead, changing the topic.

Jongdae allows him to. He’s not in the mood to delve into all of Baekhyun’s numerous problems at the moment. “What type of job, then? I told _Boss_ that I wasn’t interested in jeopardizing my status.”

“Alliance with a street-organization in Arion. Minseok’s fond of their operation, but they’ve been causing conflict with our runners for a while. Normally, he’d send someone like me to just put down their options, but I’ve been starting far more wars than I’ve been making peace.”

“That’s because you’re angsty and broody,” Jongdae says—and so much for not digging into Baekhyun’s problems. “And no matter how ‘cold’ you act, you wear that trauma on your face. People can tell you’re hiding something. Can tell you’re burying your emotions.” He cracks his knuckles, opening up another correspondence with an old contact. “And the issue with that, is that, when you’re ‘negotiating’ people feel like they can call your bluff. Walk all over you because if you’ve been hurt before, you’re not invincible, you’re not unbeatable.”

Baekhyun snorts. “Good thing you and I are polar opposites,” he says.

“I really don’t think we are when it comes down to it. We’ve just taken different paths, had different experiences,” Jongdae says, shooting off a message in hopes he’ll get a response sometime within the week, before he closes the laptop and powers off the holoboard. He stands up. “I mean, really, when you think about it, we’ve both been ‘dead’ and revived, we’re both fond of music, we’ve both gotten tangled up with Minseok… I just think it’d be a shame to pretend we’re _not_ all that similar.”

“Is your experience really comparable to mine?” Baekhyun asks. “I was crushed by a piece of falling metal and my corpse was broadcast to the world. And you?”

Jongdae chooses not to answer for the time being, figuring he’s filled his daily quota of riling Baekhyun up. “Arion, then. When are we leaving?”

“I have a personal errand to run, which you’re welcome to join me on, and then after that we’ll be leaving,” Baekhyun says, tone instantly shifting to match the business-like conversation they’ve now moved on to.

“What kind of errand?”

“Checking up on a friend, picking up a few new toys from him. Also need to tell him to lay low a few more years. My company’s still after him, unfortunately,” Baekhyun says. Which is intriguing, because Jongdae can’t really conceive of anything he’s just said in concrete terms, so the experience is going to be one surprise after another, he’s sure.

“Then I’d like to come,” Jongdae says, reaching out for the coat Baekhyun had bought him a few days ago. It’s hooded, with only a small window for his eyes and nose. Jongdae had taken to it immediately because it allows him to retain obscurity out here in Dulcibella, where, though his chances of being recognized are small… he doesn’t want to take the risk.

Once he’s coated, Baekhyun leads them out of the suite and down the elevator. Instead of walking out of the public lobby, though, he leads them to a garage, where a matte black sportscar hums to life. “Fancy.”

“It’s armored,” Baekhyun says, “Only reason I have it.”

“Don’t like to drive?”

“Sold all my cars after I started working for Minseok. They’re easy to track. This one… even if it _does_ get tracked, it’s like a train. No one’s stopping it once it’s on its way.”

“Doesn’t look very train-like to me,” Jongdae says, rapping his knuckles against the smooth, deceptively thin exterior.

“It’s made with inviolable bonds. The metal’s impenetrable,” Baekhyun explains. “We designed it when we were building hospitals in some of our neighboring worlds but the theory of it was actually made by humans. They just didn’t have the resources to bring it to fruition.”

They both get in the car, which has a deep red interior, the type that Jongdae imagines a celebrity might have. And well, Baekhyun may have thrown himself underground, but he still bears all of the traits of someone who had so much money, they didn’t know what to do with it.

Baekhyun takes them in a different direction than Jongdae’s ever gone, up several levels of the city, across sky-bridges, and then back down, into the tunnels and underground roadways.

They emerge near a sparkling black river and a distinctly residential, almost suburban district. It’s far from what Jongdae was expecting (which was essentially the slums, again)., especially when Baekhyun parks the car in front of an unassuming, almost _cute_ little two-story house, with a well-kept garden, and a foreign beast grazing happily in the yard.

But, what was the saying? Never judge a book by its cover.

Inside, it’s much the same, however. Family pictures hang on the wall, kids’ art sits in sweet, handmade frames, and clutter is discarded all over the entry way, giving the home a calming, lived-in feel. “Are you hiding a secret family or something?” Jongdae jokes.

“No, we’re hiding an illegal lab and enhancement station,” comes a new voice. Jongdae’s gaze flits over to them immediately. The figure looks about his age, maybe a few years older, and though he’s got sharp bone structure and an all-together intimidating _look_ to him, he exudes a far gentler energy. “But, Baekhyun’s not here for physical enhancements.”

“No,” Baekhyun agrees, “I’m here for the tech.”

Jongdae eyes the two of them. He’s not sure _what_ it is, that’s off, but there _is_ a tension between the two men, even if they are joking with one another on the surface. It’s not until the stranger introduces himself that Jongdae learns where that tension comes from.

“Dr. Zhang,” he says, offering out a hand for Jongdae to shake. “I’m Baekhyun’s biggest enemy and greatest friend.”

“He’s a bitch,” Baekhyun agrees, “but I suppose if Yixing _didn’t_ have shitty ethics, I wouldn’t be able to do business with him today.”

And the name _does_ ring a bell. It’s from the article he read about Baekhyun’s revival. Jongdae’s got to say, he’s surprised that Baekhyun and Yixing have even kept up contact with each other. Baekhyun seems like the type to get payback.

Yixing shows them downstairs, into the basement, which is really like a compound. It’s massive, likely sprawling across the entire neighborhood, if Jongdae were to estimate. And there are people hard at work all over the place. “So, what kind of operation is this?”

“Yixing develops illegal meditech and dabbles in the militech trade. This is his lab and also his shipping zone. We’re here to pick up some new weaponry. I put out an order for an Aquarian multi-purpose rifle, and I’m here to pick up an updated version of Baëkhyun’s sabres. The other ones are losing their power-source and they don’t exactly recharge like comms do.”

“I see,” Jongdae says, still looking around the sleek compound. His eyes are drawn to the displays hanging on the walls or sitting on the various shelves, to the jars of body parts he can’t even recognize, to the gel-pods and the aliens floating inside them. It’s as off-putting as it is interesting.

Yixing leads them into a room that’s filled top to bottom with _shelves_ upon _shelves_ of weaponry. Most of which Jongdae couldn’t have even conceived of had he not been looking at it that very second. Baekhyun whistles, and starts perusing while Yixing figures out where the ordered weapons are. As they browse, Baekhyun delivers his warning, “Taeyeon’s telling me they’re still out looking for you.”

“It’s been centuries, when are they going to stop?”

“When you make them another me?” Baekhyun supposes, picking up a delicate, glass-like gun and weighing it in his hands.

Yixing scoffs, “Not going to happen. I’ve learned my lesson. I wouldn’t want another moody brat on my case.”

“I’m glad you think so highly of me,” Baekhyun says, rolling his eyes. He’s still looking at that glass pistol, eyes sparkling with something akin to greed. Yixing redirects his attention with a sharp little “Ah-ha!”

He turns and Yixing’s holding a massive rifle in his hands. It’s easily half of Baekhyun’s body-length and looks equally as heavy. “So, _this_ bad boy is the Aquarian rifle,” Yixing says. He puts it down on the worktable in the center of the room, then disappears for a moment to grab something else.

He returns with a pair of gloves, slipping them onto his hands. “Unless you’re in a mech-suit or… I don’t know? Seven feet tall, you’re going to need doubled-gloves to handle it properly. “ He waves his hands, “I happen to have doubled-gloves for you, since I noticed you never ordered them.” He sounds a tad bit patronizing, but Jongdae figures it’s warranted.

“I ask for what I want and your job is to make sure I can use it,” Baekhyun says, shrugging unapologetically.

Yixing scoffs, but continues to explain the gloves and weapon’s characteristics. “The gloves are going to affect the weapon’s gravity as well as its activation. Basically, the gloves connect to an artificial cloud and you’re able to then affect the weapon via your mind. The fun part about the Aquarian rifle is that it’s… anything you need, really.”

Yixing demonstrates by picking up the weapon in hand and wiring the cables from his wrist-panel to the weapon’s port. Immediately, the rifle warps into a bat. A few seconds later and Yixing’s created a crossbow, then a hand-held machine gun, and finally, a shield of sorts. “See?”

Baekhyun nods, “How good is the security on its cloud?”

“I’ve done nothing to fiddle with it since I know it’d make you paranoid. You’ll have to get it set-up with a techie or net runner. Either works really, but I’d go with techie. They tend to leave far fewer traps behind in their codes.”

“I’ll see if Minseok has anyone particular in mind.”

“Your friend Chanyeol’s a popular net-junkie, though,” Yixing seemingly reminds. “May as well call him up if he’s in the area?”

Baekhyun pauses, “I could… he _does_ owe me one. But does coding my cloud and its security require physical nearness?”

“Not entirely? But he’ll have to be a part of that cloud if he does it via the network. He could hijack your weapon because he’ll also have a connection.”

“I’ll take my chances, then. I don’t see myself sticking with the same gun for long enough for it to become an issue. Now, Baëkhyun’s sabres?” Baekhyun asks. Yixing retrieves them, passing the weapons off to Jongdae since Baekhyun’s got his hands full. “Now, if this is all I ordered, I think I’ll bounce. See you some other day,” he says, ushering Jongdae out of the workroom and back upstairs.

Yixing follows them, but pauses in the doorway, seemingly without any plans of going any closer to the front door. “Baekhyun, one last thing. Watch who you trust. My people also tipped me off that _your_ Boss is looking for me. For what reason? I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out. See that you don’t get us all killed via a slip of the tongue.”

Baekhyun pulls Jongdae out of the front door without responding, kicking it shut with the back of his heel.

“I’ve noticed you like to walk away when people ask you to confront realities about the people you are fond of,” Jongdae says, slipping into the car. “It sounds like Dr. Zhang might have had some good advice for you, I would have stayed and listened. You did not; is it because you don’t want to think Minseok’s going behind your back?”

“Minseok asked me to find him,” Baekhyun says simply. “Minseok is not going behind my back. I’m going behind _his_.” He turns and fixes Jongdae under his gaze. He’s not pleased. If anything, he looks nervous. “Minseok wants Zhang Yixing because Minseok craves power, craves possession. And Dr. Zhang can give him that. Dr. Zhang can even give him immortality, if he so wished.”

Baekhyun pauses. “And Minseok _thinks_ I hate Yixing. To some great degree, I do. But I also respect him because he destroyed the research Minseok so desperately wants to access. He destroyed the machines they used on me. He called the other labs. Had other moral scientists halt their experiments and destroy _their_ evidence. And those that didn’t? He gave me the names of and I took care of them.”

“Kim Minseok _wishes_ he were like me. With infinite lives. With clones that can take the fall for him. He’ll have eyes _everywhere_ if he gets that technology. Even now, he uses Baëkhyun against me. Uses Baëkhyun to access knowledge about me that he otherwise would not be allowed,” Baekhyun continues, “I have nothing to hear from Yixing that I don’t already know. And I have told you all of this because I think we stand to gain something from trusting one another and… I don’t trust easily, but you’ve been trusting enough, so I figured I’d throw you a bone.”

Jongdae allows all of this to sink in, saying nothing even once they’ve arrived at the loading dock. It’s not until they’ve left Dulcinea’s orbit for the brief, couple of hours journey to Arion that he speaks.“I’m glad you don’t trust Minseok,” he says.

“You don’t either. Figured it was a good starting point.”

“I’m going to stab him in the back. I’m going to beat him at his own game,” Jongdae says, very honestly. “I’m going to win my freedom. I’m also going to win my future’s freedom.”

Baekhyun watches him for a long while, finally nodding. It’s a message of finality, a message of agreement. “I hope you do. It’s been so long since _I’ve_ been free.”

***

They land in Amphitrite, the largest city on Arion, which is built upon a massive island system. Jongdae observes the planet as they descend from orbit, his eyes tracing the seemingly endless miles of white-cresting waves and ocean that stretch out from Amphitrite’s outermost, city boundary and into the far off horizon. It’s a water world, with oceans much cleaner, much more beautiful than Earth’s.

It makes his heart pang with longing, for Arion is the first planet he’s been to in years that reminds him so much of his home. Even more so than Dulcinea, which had felt familiar for its urban sprawl.

Arion feels like the Earth of centuries ago, post-industrialization but prior any commercial space travel.

“I own a building on the main island, Salacia. We’ll head there after business has been completed. Right now,” he looks down at the time displayed on his comm, “we’re about to be late.” And he leads Jongdae from the landing dock over to a garage, where he swipes a keycard. A couple of minutes later, his car is delivered via an elevator, and they both get in.

Baekhyun inputs an address and the car accelerates into motion. While the car drives itself, he takes the time to introduce Jongdae to the city, pointing out venues he’d performed at, the homes of famous Delphini singers, and a number of other interesting features. Like in Dulcinea, Amphitrite is a melting pot of different aliens and cultures. In fact, Jongdae can notice a distinctly Dulcinean flair in several of the districts they pass, and, as Baekhyun explains, these are the districts where wealthy members from the Cervantes star system (of which Dulcinea is a part) tend to vacation.

They cross a bridge, the pretty blue waves crashing up against the supports beneath them, and onto a second island. “This is Rhodes,” Baekhyun tells him. “It’s mob run. The southern side of the island, what we’re on now, is Scylla’s territory. The north belongs to Maelstrom.”

“Maelstrom is who we want to ally with, then?”

“Indeed,” Baekhyun says, “And since this car has Scylla’s sigil mounted to the front… we’ll be stopped once we pass the boundary.”

“Peacefully?”

“Debatable. But, you can duck and I’ll shoot if that’s really needed,” Baekhyun says lightly. “To the right is one of Minseok’s labs.”

“Drugs?”

“Arion’s a huge market for psychedelics and hallucinogens. Like in Dulcinea, hedonism is encouraged on this side of the galaxy. Pleasure is… and always will be, the most popular pursuit in places such as these,” Baekhyun explains, “we’ll stop by while we’re here and see that business is going as it should.”

Jongdae hums, not that he plans on getting outside the car and taking a look inside a drug lab, and returns his gaze to the road ahead of them.

Just twenty minutes later, Baekhyun turns off the car’s auto-pilot feature and slows them down, his gaze sharpening. Not but thirty seconds after that, a car’s pulling behind them, following dangerously close. Baekhyun slows down to a stop, cutting the engine and rolling down the driver’s side window.

The pair that walks up to the window has an impressive arsenal at hand, with foreign weapons strapped to their back, across their chest, and tied to their belt. One of them sticks the barrel of a pistol inside the car, their face following close. “What are two Scyllian thugs doing out here? Miss the boundary line or something?”

“I’m here on Xiumin’s behalf,” Baekhyun says calmly, “I’d like to speak to Yifan, if it can be arranged?”

“Who’s in the car with you?”

“A negotiator,” Baekhyun says, refusing to drop any names. Not that any of these people would even recognize Jongdae’s name. “Can you bring us to Yifan or not?”

There’s a pause, then the pair pull away from the window. A few minutes later, their car pulls in front of Baekhyun’s. They wave out the window for Baekhyun to follow, which he does, the car jolting into motion.

They’re brought through a winding passage of streets, finally stopping in front of a small bar. Baekhyun parks on the curb and gets out, motioning for Jongdae to mirror him. They’re shown inside, to a corner booth with a good vantage point of the entire establishment. “We’ll let Boss know you’re waiting for him here,” one of the thugs says before leaving them alone.

Jongdae shifts in his seat while he waits. “I don’t like that everyone’s got an eye on us.”

“I thought you were a diplomat, aren’t you good at dealing with crowds?” Baekhyun says, far more relaxed, even staring _back_ at some of the patrons that just won’t look away.

“I really work more behind the scenes, with the occasional press conference. It’s not as forthright of a position as you seem to think it is,” Jongdae explains. “And it’s not the crowd so much as the judgment?”

“They’re curious, but Minseok does not have a great impression here. Mix that together and you get a strange sort of hatred,” Baekhyun says. He reaches out and grabs a servant bot by the wrist, pulling it off of its programmed track and snatching two drinks from its platter. He sets one in front of Jongdae and the other in front of himself, then folds a bill into the robot’s hands.

It returns to the bar, where the bartenders’ expressions have significantly soured. Baekhyun only tips his glass to them and starts sipping. “They wouldn’t have served us otherwise,” he says upon noticing Jongdae’s nonplussed look. “And it’s not like I _stole_. I paid for the drinks.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes and takes a sip of whatever Baekhyun had grabbed for them. It’s sweet for a moment and then immediately sour. Jongdae makes a face and sets it back down, smacking his lips. “Not sure it was worth the money,” he says.

Baekhyun grins, tipping his head in concession, but as quickly as his lips have pulled up, they’re turning back down.

“Yifan, I’m glad you came in person.”

“Minseok obviously couldn’t return the favor,” the newcomer, Yifan, says, sitting down at Baekhyun’s side. His second-in-command slips into the booth next to Jongdae, a knife already in hand. _Threatening_ , he thinks idly, resolutely keeping his eyes off the blade and on the foreign boss’s face.

Baekhyun waves his hand. “You know how he is…”

“Arrogant?”

“I prefer to call him efficient. He’s got business elsewhere, so he sends me to do business here. Both get done at the same time, with no time wasted in between.”

“You two aren’t still fucking then?” Yifan says crassly, as if he knows it’s going to strike a nerve. “Because I seem to remember you being a huge distraction of his back in the day.”

“Still fucking,” Baekhyun says, jaw twitching. “Not that it has any effect in our business.”

Yifan scoffs, like he’s ready to argue, but… he lets it go, instead fixing his gaze on Jongdae, who feels instantly intimidated by the severity of such a face as Yifan has. He’s very pretty though. Striking, really. “Who’s this, then?”

“Kim Chen,” Jongdae says. “It’s good to meet you,” and he bows.

Yifan follows the movement, then, tips his head in return. “Wu Yifan. What’s a human doing all the way out here, and in Baekhyun’s company no less. He’s something of a soloist in my experience.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes.

“I’m here to propose a deal on behalf of Minseok. A way for Maelstrom and Scylla to profit off of one another. To expand and experience the fruits of friendship.”

“No.”

“You’ve not even heard what’s up for offer,” Jongdae says breezily. “Boss is willing to secede from Arion completely—at least in a competitor capacity—leaving you his functioning labs and clients.”

Baekhyun catches on, “We’ll expand our orbital labs, from which we ship from. To our understanding, you cannot ship outside of Arion due to our monopoly in the skies. If we give you Arion, you can access our shipping satellites and we’ll take a cut. A large one, perhaps, but… you’ll be making millions more than you are currently.”

Which is all well and good because Jongdae has no idea how the drug operation works here in Arion. He was just throwing out a bone.

“In other words, you become head of operations here on Arion, where you stand to make the largest profit, but you supply our interplanetary clients via our machinery and shipping routes. We take a cut for the operation of interplanetary shipping.”

“There’s a catch,” Yifan says, “what is it?”

“Well, you’ll pay the shipping tax, but you’ll also have to pay a tax for the use of our labs. We’re willing to put them under your hands, but the fact still remains that we created them and made them into the bastions of operation they are today. We want sixty percent of profits made off of our labs, and a seventy percent cut on interplanetary trade.”

“No.”

“Why not? Are the numbers scaring you?” Jongdae says.

Baekhyun grins, setting his drink down. He looks hungry now, happy with the deal they’re working out. “We make trillions. You’ll be making billions, _hell_ , may as well end up being trillions with our help. Much more than what you currently make here on Arion.”

Yifan holds his gaze. He’s proud too, arrogant much like Baekhyun, perhaps more like Minseok. “Then I want a fifty, sixty-five percent tax. Not the sixty-seventy you proposed.”

“Sixty, sixty-five,” Jongdae bargains.

“Fifty, sixty-five or no deal.”

“Then it’s no deal,” Jongdae says easily, pushing his glass away and standing up. Baekhyun follows his lead, motioning for Yifan to let him out of the booth.

Yifan stays put. “Fine, fifty-five, sixty-five.”

Still, Jongdae does not budge. Baekhyun motions again for Yifan to move out of the way. But, with a sigh he says, “Sit back down. I’ll allow the sixty, sixty-five percent cuts. Let’s talk organization now.”

“Let’s talk organization later,” Jongdae counters, “or do you think we’ll sit here and tell you where all of our labs are prior to working out a safety net? We’ll contact you in time, for now, though, let’s call each other friends.” Jongdae offers out his hand, which Yifan takes, though hesitantly.

Baekhyun also shakes his hand. “It was good doing business with you again, Yifan. Let’s not be strangers,” he says.

They leave uncontested, Baekhyun driving them all the way off of Rhodes Island and back onto Salacia, all the way onto the curb of Baekhyun’s building. Of which, he owns the penthouse suite.

They get out of the car with a certain air of accomplishment, both of them in high spirits from the successful business deal. The elation culminates in the foyer of Baekhyun’s flat.

He’d walked in just in front of Jongdae, had stopped misstep and turned around to turn off the alarm—putting him face-to-face, all too close, with Jongdae. It’s a split second pause, with both of them sharing all too much space, and then Baekhyun’s gaze is flicking down to Jongdae’s lips.

Jongdae’s eyes flutter shut, leaning forward unconsciously.

Baekhyun puts a hand to his jaw, holding him back just so. Jongdae’s eyes open, eyebrows downturned, a frown pulling at the corner of his lips.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Baekhyun says quietly, head cocked to the side just so, eyes unfairly soft.

“Are we famous for making good decisions?” Jongdae asks. And this has Baekhyun’s eyes sparkling with unfamiliar playfulness. Unfamiliar joy.

“I suppose not.”

And they kiss. Baekhyun’s hands cupping Jongdae’s face gently, Jongdae’s hands settling on Baekhyun’s hips.

They break away quickly. Baekhyun’s beginning to frown and Jongdae smiling softly. “Stop thinking,” Jongdae chides. “Nothing’s wrong. With you or me or us. It’s just a kiss.”

Baekhyun nods, slow, and then he’s smiling again. He should smile more often. It suits him. They pull away from one another, Baekhyun finally cancelling the alarm and Jongdae walking further inside to flop down on the couch.

“Best call Minseok,” Jongdae says.

“I’ll text him. Don’t feel like having him ruin the mood yet,” Baekhyun says easily.

Jongdae frowns, “Do you two not get along? I mean, I already know you don’t trust him, but… from what people keep mentioning, you were close.”

“It’s complicated? Minseok’s a product of my past as well as my present. And we were never… friends? We liked playing games with each other. Minseok wanted me and I didn’t want to give myself up. Plans obviously changed, though I’m not sure I… wanted them to. I might regret ever giving myself to him?”

“You sound unsure.”

“I try not to unpack my emotions if I can help it. Tends to fuck me up,” Baekhyun says simply, kicking off his boots and walking over to join Jongdae on the couch, uncharacteristically touchy. “And everything’s so nice and happy right now,” he says.

Jongdae quirks a brow, “Yeah? So, if we’re not calling Minseok or unpacking your traumatic past, what _are_ we going to do?”

“You should sing for me,” Baekhyun says after a beat of silence. “I’ve got a piano here, if you know how to play?”

Jongdae grins, “It’s been so long since I’ve sang, though.”

“Then warm-up. It’s a practiced skill, but it’s not like your body’s going to forget completely,” Baekhyun says. “Come on,” and he leads Jongdae over to the dining room, in the corner of which is sat the piano. He dusts off the bench with his hand, then scoots over to give Jongdae room to warm-up.

He taps along the keys with growing familiarity, gradually relearning a skill he’d never truly forgotten. And only once he’s gotten the tune of a song does he begin to sing. Baekhyun’s right that, though unpracticed, his body hasn’t completely forgotten its talent. The techniques Jongdae tries to use don’t always work, and his voice cracks on notes he used to be able to hit, but… he does well.

Baekhyun’s quiet while Jongdae sings, his gaze unfocused, his head obviously somewhere else.

But when Jongdae closes out, Baekhyun smiles, this more genuine than all the ones Jongdae’s seen before. And, for a moment, Jongdae thinks they’ll kiss again, but Baekhyun looks away and gets up.

“Thank you,” he says. “I missed… this type of singing.”

“What type of singing is that?”

“Singing from the heart.”

And Baekhyun leaves the room. Jongdae remains at the piano, idly picking at different tunes, his thoughts oddly pensive.

***

While Baekhyun’s mood had been elated for much of the day, he disappears for a few hours in the evening, and, upon his return that mood has tanked. Jongdae watches him walk inside and make a bee-line for the liquor cabinet. And, that’s when he speaks up. “It’s not healthy to drink so much, even when you’re struggling like you are.” Emotionally, he leaves unspoken, because Baekhyun’ll understand. He’s not dumb.

“Rarely is anything in excess _healthy_ ,” Baekhyun counters, taking out a bottle and pouring a glass.

“You know what I mean. Please don’t drink.”

And, shockingly, Baekhyun _does_ pause. Jongdae hadn’t really expected him to. They aren’t exactly… the best of friends despite getting along more and more now, and given Baekhyun’s mood, Jongdae didn’t think confronting him would reap any positive benefits.

He sets the bottle down, but he doesn’t pick up the glass. Instead, he plants both his hands on the counter and looks down, his face hidden, expression unreadable.

When he looks up, his expression is… broken. That’s the easiest word for it. It’s an indescribable sort of sadness that turns his brows, tugs at his lips. The type that weighs down on you and just gets heavier as the years go by.

“What am I doing?” He asks. Something gasped out as if the thought’s been vomited up without any choice in the matter. “What the _fuck_ am I doing?”

Jongdae holds his stare, but he says nothing. He doesn’t know what to say.

“How’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Survive,” Baekhyun says. “You explained… you explained what it was like to wake up like you did. Why aren’t you like me? It was so similar.”

Jongdae shakes his head, “I can’t dwell on the past. I can’t live my life afraid,” he says quietly. “I get the nightmares. I get the panic, but I… I manage it by focusing on my future.”

And Baekhyun _hasn’t_ done that. Has never made an effort to manage it in a healthy way. “I don’t manage,” he says.

“You do. With drinks and sex. Hate sex, mind you,” Jongdae clarifies, because he thinks the point is important. Whatever Baekhyun has with Baëkhyun isn’t… affectionate. It has no healing quality. At least, no healthy healing quality. “Because you’re afraid and you pent everything up. Maybe it’s time to talk it all out?”

Baekhyun stares at him and then, drops his head again. His shoulders shake a moment later with an aborted sob. “I feel alienated from my own body. I feel like I don’t even know what I am much less who I am.” He raises his head. “I’m afraid no one will ever need _me_. Baekhyun. Everything about me can be replicated. What is there that’s mine and only mine?”

Jongdae shakes his head. “Baëkhyun’s not _you_.”

“But he _could_ be,” Baekhyun says. “He _could_. It’d be so easy for someone to take him and also, in that fucked up way, have me too. I keep him close because I can’t bear the thought of someone enslaving me, in any capacity.”

“Your greatest love was your individuality and your independence, and that got stolen from you,” Jongdae says quietly. “But you are not Baëkhyun. And Baëkhyun is not you. What happens to him does not happen to _you_ , _your_ conscious.”

It’s not the answer, and Baekhyun obviously doesn’t agree, but it brings them closer to an understanding.

He cries, standing at the counter, and Jongdae doesn’t offer him any comfort. Doesn’t think his efforts _would_ comfort.

Unfortunately Baekhyun’s issues are rooted in himself. He’s… at odds with himself. Literally and figuratively.

“Baëkhyun could be good for you,” he says quietly. “Could help you heal. Actually heal. If you didn’t treat him like a toy. A toy to kick around.”

And Baekhyun nods like he knows this already and can’t bring himself to let Baëkhyun have that side of him regularly. Like perhaps he’s experienced it before, but hasn’t been able to ever do it again.

“I think I need a new start,” Baekhyun says more quietly. “I think I need… I need to become someone new. Or... go back to what I was.”

***

They remain in Arion for a time, before finally being recalled back to Dulcinea. Baëkhyun seems curious to know what happened during their short absence because Baekhyun and Jongdae are quite obviously closer. Not affectionate, but more trusting of one another, more lenient with one another.

Jongdae can see that Baëkhyun’s jealous in they way he watches them, in the arrogant cant of his brow, the clench of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. And jealousy eats away at the heart. Makes people unnecessarily cruel. And, when met with fury, it escalates into something poisonous, hateful.

It’s really only a matter of time before Baëkhyun and Baekhyun clash together. Snap like they are almost destined to do. So long as Baekhyun’s got his personal turmoil, he’s at odds with Baëkhyun. And he’ll tear Baëkhyun apart to try and make himself feel better. But it’ll never work because, like he said, they _are_ one. Linked irrevocably. And hurting one will only hurt the other.

Jongdae’s on a call with his old contact on Earth, the one who had assigned him to Saffar, when the two of them snap.

Baekhyun’s sat on the couch in one of his moods, his head laid on his arm, his gaze somewhere outside the window. And Baëkhyun strides into the room and crawls up onto the couch, onto _him_ , whining for attention, his nails cruel as they dig into Baekhyun’s arm and thigh.

Baekhyun tells him to go away. That he’s not interested. And Baëkhyun counters him. Does not leave.

Jongdae can’t get up from his call, even once the two of them begin to fight. He’s lucky that the two of them shout at one another in their native tongue. It makes it easier to excuse it on the call. But, eventually, the volume and intensity of the fight (they’re now throwing fists at one another) forces Jongdae from the room in order to wrap up the meeting with some semblance of success.

He’s told they’ll try and arrange him a conference with more important figures soon. Jongdae thanks him for the effort he’s making, and then, ends the call, shutting the laptop and standing up.

He walks back down the hall, into the lounge just in time to see Baëkhyun force Baekhyun onto the ground, hands around his throat. He snarls something, his anger as cutting as a whip.

But Baekhyun only laughs, practically spitting at him. Baëkhyun jerks back, and Baekhyun quickly unseats him. He points at the clone, tone just as furious, just as hateful, and then, he leaves the apartment.

Jongdae leans in the hall, eyes returning to Baëkhyun.

Who’s crying now, his hands clapped to his face, shoulders shaking.

“I’m sorry he’s so cruel to you,” Jongdae says eventually, walking to the kitchen and dampening a rag. He brings it back to Baëkhyun, kneeling down next to him. He reaches out, fingers wrapping around Baëkhyun’s wrist, and pulls Baëkhyun’s hand away from his face, revealing the damage.

It’s not too bad. Just a few scratches, a busted lip, and a tear where his earring may have been. But cuts on the face bleed a lot for no good reason, so he _does_ look somewhat banged up. Jongdae dabs away the blood. There’s not much else he can do, unfortunately. He doesn’t know where Baekhyun keeps their first aide supplies and Baëkhyun’s not really… talking.

Just crying. Quietly now, but crying all the same, his gaze fixated on the floor. All of the bravado from earlier has melted away and left him looking small and neglected.

“Why does he hurt me?” Baëkhyun asks, voice a mere rasp. “Doesn’t he love me?”

 _He doesn’t._ That’s the thing. That’s the real cruelty of it all. That Baëkhyun _thinks_ Baekhyun loves him beneath it all. But he doesn’t. He _loathes_ him and the rare affection he shows Baëkhyun is just a masquerade for his need to _possess_ his clone.

“Love’s not supposed to hurt,” Jongdae answers quietly.

“No, it’s supposed to help. It’s _healing_ ,” Baëkhyun says. “I don’t see why he pushes me away every time I try and make him feel better.”

“Baekhyun might not heal in the same way,” Jongdae supposes.

Baëkhyun shakes his head, “He does. I heal that way. But he does too. _You_ ’ve been making him happier. Why? How?”

Jongdae shrugs. “I don’t know.”

They fall back into silence. Baëkhyun’s tears are drying up and he’s resuming that quiet nonchalance that he tries so often to portray. It doesn’t suit him. Doesn’t suit Baekhyun either, but especially not Baëkhyun.

Until, his head’s snapping up, eyes wide, a few minutes later. “Something’s wrong,” he hisses.

“Something’s very, very wrong.”

***

Baëkhyun’s adamant that Baekhyun is… worse off than he left. He describes a very striking, searing sort of pain that radiates from the back of the head and in the gut. Describes the crippling emotion of _fear_ , unadulterated terror, and then, the dragging emotion of giving up. And as soon as Baëkhyun relates this much, it’s all gone. And Baëkhyun feels _nothing_ from his bond.

He calls Minseok, but gets no answer, whether for connectivity issues or because the Boss is actively ignoring them or otherwise preoccupied.

“Where would Baekhyun go if he needed to cool down?” Jongdae asks, all business now. He lets Baëkhyun lead him out onto the street, but he’s not going to be much help. After all, Baekhyun’s the only one that’s really familiar with Dulcinea in the first place. Jongdae and Baëkhyun are strangers to this world at best.

“I don’t know,” Baëkhyun says.

“Do you have Taeyeon’s number then? She knows him well, doesn’t she?”

Baëkhyun nods, passing Jongdae his comm. Jongdae scrolls through the contacts, finally coming up with Taeyeon’s name. He’s lucky Baëkhyun’s settings translate everything to Common.

She answers on the third ring, _“Baëkhyun?”_

“Kim Chen. I’ve been working with them for the past few weeks. Baëkhyun’s worried for Baekhyun, says something bad’s happened. Do you know where Baekhyun would go if he needed to cool down?”

She pauses, _“Back when I knew him, he’d go to the house he grew up in. It’s in Rocinante. A real slum-house. Building 04, Floor -40. I don’t remember the room.”_

“The district around it, what’s it like?”

_“Rocinante’s the type of place you’d get killed just for looking at someone wrong. It’s rough. Medical labs would kidnap people for testing, the government would kidnap them for brainwashing and militarization. It’s just… not a good place. You have to look out for the ‘law’ just as much as you look out for criminals themselves.”_

Jongdae nods, thanks her for her help, and hangs up the phone, entering Rocinante’s name into the navigation app on Baëkhyun’s comm. Rocinante’s about a twenty minute walk from Baekhyun’s flat at Capital Tower—which surprises Jongdae at first, until he thinks about how the fast developing, wealthy sector of the city might push out the lower class inhabitants of the same spaces and force them elsewhere. Rocinante’s probably just the place they’re forced to relocate that’ll still keep them within walking distance of their jobs and other necessities.

Baëkhyun keeps the gun he’d grabbed from the apartment concealed up until they enter Rocinante’s limits, at which point he brandishes it openly, warningly. And though he’s scanning the place to ensure they aren’t mugged by someone, Jongdae’s scanning the street to see _who_ does a double take.

Because Baekhyun doesn’t make it commonly known that he’s got a clone. And if someone seems even moderately confused by the familiarity of Baëkhyun’s face, then Jongdae’s inclined to think they saw the original walk by earlier.

They go several minutes without any such experience until, out of the corner of his eye, Jongdae spots a beggar on the street look up at Baëkhyun with something akin to shock as well as familiarity.

Jongdae immediately stops, turns, and points at him before they can even think of deflecting. He grab Baëkhyun by the arm and drags him over to the guy, both of them crouching down to his level.

“You recognize him?” He asks the beggar, jerking his head at Baëkhyun.

“Walked by an hour ago,” the beggar says, his eyes refusing to meet Jongdae’s.

“You’re lying. What happened to the guy you saw?” Jongdae practically spits. The beggar doesn’t answer. Not until Baëkhyun’s directing the barrel of his gun down the man’s line of sight.

He gulps. “Got mugged like forty minutes ago. Took a bottle to the back of the head and the remnant of it to his gut. They dragged him off in the alley,” the guy tells them, pointing to an alley just past the next side-street.

It’s far more believable. Especially since Baëkhyun had mentioned feeling pain in his head and gut. It matches. “If you’re lying, I’ll let him kill you,” Jongdae says before standing up. He and Baëkhyun jog over to the alley. Blood spatters the wall, pools on the ground, but Baekhyun’s no where to be seen.

Baëkhyun picks through the trash bags lining the walls, uncovering a corpse, but not Baekhyun’s. And they don’t have time to care about some stranger. Jongdae _does_ offer them a prayer, but immediately after, his attention is elsewhere.

They walk the length of the alley, then, find more blood.

Baëkhyun immediately turns to follow it, taking them both deeper into the alley system, cast into the dark shadows of the buildings on either side of them. It smells awful, and Jongdae’s sure he’s seen _another_ body that’s been disposed of, but, it leads to a neighborhood. A familiar neighborhood.

“This is the same place you two threatened that Boss.”

“Yeah,” Baëkhyun says softly. “Perhaps, it was revenge that motivated them? Not a simple mugging, but a planned hit.”

“Well, there’s no way they could have known Baekhyun would be here today,” Jongdae says just as quietly. “Unless they spotted him and came up with the plan on the fly.”

They walk down the street, landmarks becoming far more familiar now. And then, at the very end of the street, just after they pass under the highway overpass, there looms a building.“What’s the sign say?” Jongdae asks, pointing at the building’s name.

Baëkhyun reads it aloud, “ _Overpass Mega-Complex 04.”_

“Coincidence?”

They walk up to the doors, then inside. That’s when Jongdae learns a mega-complex is essentially a city of its own. Shops line the various floors inside the building, stretching up from the lobby into the sky, where Jongdae can no longer make them out. He can’t even _see_ the roof of this building, it’s so large. “We need to go forty floors underground,” Jongdae says.

So, they start looking for an elevator that’ll take them _down_. It takes a while, for the elevators to the lower levels are clustered away in a darker corner of the building, far from all of the amenities and entrances. And people loiter around the doors, watching them approach with thinly veiled discontent.

Baëkhyun raises his chin as they approach, his eyes cold, unwavering. Jongdae mimics him, assuming the persona of someone with a lot more confidence than he actually _has_ in a situation like this.

They enter the elevators without consequence.

Baëkhyun presses the button that’ll bring them down forty floors. There are only forty five underground floors in the first place, meaning if this is where Baekhyun grew up… he truly did come from impoverished origins.

They get out and go walking down the hall. Most of the rooms are either locked or visibly uninhabited (doors hanging off hinges, the smell of decomposition wafting from beneath the frame, etc.).

But one, near the end of the hall, hangs open just a crack.

Baëkhyun pushes it open with the tip of his gun. It’s dark inside, but it also smells distinctly of blood.

Jongdae follows him inside, hands searching the wall for a light switch. He hits it and one, singular fluorescent bulb flickers on.

Baekhyun lies in fetal position, a pool of blood beneath him, one hand wrapped around his head protectively, the other clutched to his gut. He looks _dead_ at first glance, and Baëkhyun whines loudly, horrified, his cry like that of an animal’s.

Jongdae shuts the door with his heel and deadbolts it. Then, he scans the place for anyone, but, it appears as if Baekhyun is alone.

“He’s _dead_ ,” Baëkhyun’s sobbing, clutching Baekhyun’s head in his hands. Jongdae shakes his head.

“Check for a pulse, Dulcis don’t die easily as you and I know,” Jongdae says. He walks into the kitchen and scrounges for anything that might help him. He picks up a cloth rag, a cup, and a pot, then reaches out and turns the faucet on the sink. The water that sputters out is brown and dirty at first but clears within a minute. It’s still not going to be… clean, but it’s better than nothing.

He fills the pot with it and brings it and the rag back to where Baekhyun lies. Then, he disappears, searching for a bathroom and a medical cabinet if he can find one.

He finds one, and it has tweezers, gauze, and bandages, but it doesn’t have anything more impressive than that. No topical creams to help prevent infection. No painkillers.

He grabs what it has and returns to his spot at Baekhyun’s side. “You need to relax,” he says quietly, rolling Baekhyun over onto his back and moving his limp arms to his sides. Baëkhyun’s breath is still coming in stuttered gasps, his fear practically oozing off of him. Jongdae’s not going to be able to handle it much longer. “If you’re panicking and he comes to and _sees_ it, you’re going to make things worse. Just relax. He’s not dead yet.”

He shoves Baekhyun’s shirt up, leaving it bunched near his armpits, and focuses on the wound at hand. He’d been gutted badly by the broken bottle, and glass still sits inside the wound, looking horribly painful. He scoops some water out of the pot with the cup and irrigates the wound, wincing at the amount of blood and dirt it washes free.

He sets the cup down and pulls out the tweezers, hunching over Baekhyun’s body and beginning to pluck the pieces of glass free of his wound. As he does so, he gives directions to Baëkhyun. “Check the back of his head and see if any glass is embedded there as well. Then his hands.”

Baëkhyun does as asked. There’s none in his head, but there is some stuck in his hands, likely from holding them to his wounds. “Use the cup and clean them off real quick, be gentle, see how much glass can just be washed out.”

Perhaps the only thing Baekhyun’s got on his side is that his intestines don’t appear to have been perforated, despite the damage to his lower abdomen. He’s lucky, because otherwise it’d be a lot more hellish of an experience. As of right now, their biggest problem is his blood loss.

It’s slow, but it’s extensive. “Call Minseok again.”

“There’s no signal,” Baëkhyun says a minute later.

“Then you need to go somewhere there _is_ a signal,” Jongdae says. “He’s not dead yet, but he _will_ die. He’s lost a lot of blood,” he explains, “he’s in shock already, Baëkhyun. It’s bad. Go get a signal.”

He holds Baëkhyun’s gaze pleadingly.

The clone gets up, but as he does, something slams against the door. Once, twice. Then, it’s silent again.

The pounding resumes a second later, much more intense. Furious, even. Jongdae flinches at the sound.

A shout comes through the door, thick, angry, but muffled by the barrier. Whatever’s said makes Baëkhyun flinch back this time, his eyes wide, skin paling.

“Be silent,” Jongdae says quietly. “Absolutely _silent_ , help me move all of this somewhere else.”

Baëkhyun nods, picking up the pot and returning it to the kitchen. It’s too big, too clunky to be moved with them into a hiding place.

Jongdae brings them all into the bathroom, where he’d noticed a single tile in the ceiling had been moved off-kilter, revealing a space in the ceiling. He points up at it for Baëkhyun, then boosts him up into the hole. Jongdae _prays_ the ceiling won’t cave in.

It doesn’t. Yet.

He hauls Baekhyun up by his underarms, straining to put him within reach of Baëkhyun. The clone finally gets a grip and after an alarming five minutes, Baekhyun’s been hauled into the ceiling as well. Jongdae hurriedly cleans up the floor, removing any trace of their having escaped here, wiping up all of the blood that had been smeared around by his boots or dripped by Baekhyun’s wounds.

Then, he throws the bloody rag in the corner of the closet and reaches out. Baëkhyun grabs his hand and drags him into the ceiling space.

Jongdae puts the tile back in place, then looks around. It takes him much longer than Baëkhyun to adjust to the pitch black, but he does.

A minute later, and he hears the front door splintering open and the heavy boot steps of whoever’d been after Baekhyun. They walk around the apartment, obviously searching for Baekhyun, who they must _know_ was here.

Still is here, just hidden, out of sight, and hopefully soon, out of mind.

Except that, as the footsteps come closer to the bathroom, Baekhyun wakes up and lets out a low moan of pain.

Jongdae immediately slaps his hand down over his mouth, harsh and rough, but terror is scorching through his body. If they _heard_ …

The footsteps have paused.

Jongdae closes his eyes, thinks of every moment he’s prayed for his life and _begs_ that he hasn’t used up all of his god’s mercy. Begs that this moment will bring him great providence, and not end with his corpse rotting here in the dark.

Baëkhyun holds his breath just the same, both of them rigidly still.

The footsteps retreat.

Jongdae still doesn’t trust it, though. He feels like he’s still in danger. Has no way of knowing when the intruders are going to leave the apartment. He shifts, though, and brings his attention back to Baekhyun, very slowly taking his hand away from Baekhyun’s mouth. _Silence_. He mouths. _Not safe_.

Baekhyun’s eyes flutter closed again. Jongdae’s not quite sure if the message has gone across—Baekhyun is in shock, his skin clammy, pale, his breathing short and shallow.

He grabs the tweezers he’d brought up with them, wiping them on his shirt, and resumes picking glass out of Baekhyun’s wound as best he can in the dark. Baëkhyun squeezes Baekhyun’s hand in support, petting him quietly every time Baekhyun gasps at a particularly sharp extraction.

Then, footsteps resume and Jongdae stops again, holding his breath.

The door to the bathroom slams against the wall, as if it had been kicked from frustration. Baëkhyun flinches at the sound. Jongdae reaches over and lays a hand on his thigh, hoping to ground him, provide him some sort of comfort.

Then comes the tearing, as if they’re taking apart the very walls. It continues for several minutes before it transfers to the ceiling.

One of the tiles pops up, flooding the space with a little bit of light. Jongdae blinks against it, then watches as Baëkhyun shies away from it on instinct. He grabs the pistol Baëkhyun had put on the floor and crawls as quietly as he can towards the opening.

A hand appears, finding a grip and then hauling a body up. As soon as the head appears to look around, Jongdae shoots.

There’s a shout. A moment later, he hears the telltale clink of a gun being adjusted in someone’s hold, and then, bullets are tearing through the ceiling. He scrambles back, still silent, as the bullets pierce the immediate area around the empty tile-space, punching bright shafts of light into their space.

A bullet shoots up through the tile just below him, barely missing him, and embeds in the ceiling above them.

A second later, he feels the tile crack, and then, he’s falling through the ceiling.

When he looks up, he’s looking up the barrel of an assault rifle into the face of fury. They snarl something at him. He recognizes only Baekhyun’s name.

And then, there’s a shot. For a moment, Jongdae thinks _he’s_ the one who’s been shot and he’s now just having that out-of-body experience right before he dies, but it’s the alien who crumples.

And not because of Baëkhyun. In the doorway, face shadowed, stands Minseok, himself.

“How’d you know?” Jongdae asks immediately.

“Taeyeon got in touch. Said something happened and told me where she’d sent you,” Minseok says. Jongdae could cry. Apparently, Kim Taeyeon was more of a friend than he thought she’d be. “Where are the other two?”

Jongdae nods up at the ceiling. “Baekhyun’s bleeding out. Baëkhyun’s freaking out. I think he can feel a bit of the phantom pain, too. Has Baekhyun ever been this badly hurt since?”

“No. He’s too cautious. Doesn’t like dying,” Minseok says calmly before nodding to the men standing behind them. They stream into the room, walking past Jongdae and tapping the ceiling tiles in warning before lifting themselves up to help Baekhyun and his clone out.

Baëkhyun follows the guy who ends up holding Baekhyun out of the building at a trot. Minseok and Jongdae follow along a little slower. “Do you know what happened?”

“Someone who saw it said it looked like a mugging, but considering the area, I think it might have been a bit of revenge. This is where they came to tell off that one boss under you.”

“Yes, I remember. I’ll have my people look into it. See if I need to replace someone.”

Jongdae nods slowly. The adrenaline of needing to _survive_ is disappearing rapidly, and in its place, the horror of what’s he’s just done hits him.

He’s been responsible for deaths. Has experienced them first hand. He wasn’t one of those morally upright peacekeepers always looking for the most passive option available. He ordered killings if he needed to. He sent out officers to clear riots. He’s got blood on his hands.

But he’s never been the one to literally pull the trigger. And that takes away his ability to play third-party. His ability to pretend he’s not just as murderous as a criminal.

He gasps, a sob working its way up his throat.

Minseok lays a hand on his shoulder for comfort, but Jongdae shakes him off. There’s no comfort to be had from Minseok, who would never understand what Jongdae’s feeling in this moment.

The only person who might understand…

He looks up, eyes searching for Baekhyun. He catches the hitman’s gaze from where his head lolls over Minseok’s henchman’s arm. A slow blink of recognition follows, and then, Jongdae’s speeding up to join Baëkhyun at his side.

***

Baekhyun and Baëkhyun are dropped off at their flat, with two robotic nurses to deal with their care—treating Baekhyun for his wounds and Baëkhyun for his panic that’s continued to mount. However, Minseok catches Jongdae by the wrist and prevents him from getting out of the car at that point.

Instead, Jongdae stays inside the car with him, coasting down several streets, until they’re pulling up outside of Paradigm Tower. Jongdae scans the place up and down, deciding that he’s been right about his every assessment of Minseok. You do not live in a place as rich as this without being as arrogant as a god.

“What do you want?” Jongdae asks once they step inside the apartment.

“You’re nervous.”

“I just killed a man, had a gun put in my face, and I’ve got blood all over me. You would be nervous too,” he snaps, beelining for the bathroom. He strips off his clothes, piling them up on the floor, and sets the water temperature to something mild—not so hot as to be comfortable, but not so cold as to freeze him.

Something in the middle, just so he can realign his thoughts.

Minseok leans against the sink, watching him. Jongdae might be embarrassed were he anyone else, but he and Minseok go way back. And he’s worried that their past is going to culminate in their _now_ at any moment. He sighs. “You killed a man in defense. It’s hardly as jarring as murder.”

“It’s still a killing,” Jongdae snarls, water dripping into his eyes. He breathes under the stream, focusing on the feel of the droplets cascading across his shoulders, the water streaming through his hair. “And I’ve prided myself on never being the one to pull the trigger.”

“You weren’t an angel before now,” Minseok reminds him. He, of course, since becoming a criminal fugitive doesn’t know what Jongdae’s been up to, but he went through the same training as Jongdae. And the Virgo Conference was always willing to throw away lives for the sake of securing their foothold in a nation. Was always willing to kill off spies that proved untrustworthy. Was always willing to kill off officials that didn’t work according to plan. “Don’t pretend that you were. That you have any moral righteousness that surpasses _ours_.”

 _Ours_. He’s talking about the Baekhyuns as well as himself.

“I don’t believe I _said_ I was more morally righteous,” Jongdae replies.

“Like fuck you didn’t. You think I’m evil-”

“No, I think you’re cruel, self-centered, and brutal. But, I think it comes with the business. And you don’t hunt people down that you don’t need to. You’re not _evil_. You’re criminal.”

Minseok huffs, “Then what’s so different between us. You’re a criminal now too.”

“I’m not,” Jongdae argues. “I killed in self-defense, as you said. That is not murder. I have not betrayed my country. I have not betrayed my position. How am I criminal?”

“Criminal for associating with people like me. Do you really think any of your associates back on Earth would even _speak_ to you if they knew why you were even contacting them?” Minseok asks, “If they knew you’re contacting them for _me_.”

Jongdae shakes his head, eyes fluttering shut as he steps fully under the spray of the faucet.

“We could be powerful if we worked together. That’s why Baekhyun came to me. He wanted to rule the world. And I’m giving it to him.”

Jongdae sighs. “Does Baekhyun _still_ want to rule the world?” He asks. “Do _I_ want to rule the world?”

Silence.

“The answer’s no, Minseok. My dream was to reach people. It was to travel, to explore the world, to learn different cultures, to assimilate to them. I didn’t have the support to become a musician, which would have afforded me the same perks, so I became a diplomat and put all my schooling to good use.” He trails off. “And Baekhyun may have wanted the world once before, but he’s falling apart. I think all he wants is to be far, far away from here.”

Minseok hums, but says nothing more, disappearing from the bathroom, leaving Jongdae to scrub himself clean off all the alien blood coating his body. Leaving Jongdae to try and wash away the guilt that clings to him like a second skin.

When he returns, dressed in spare clothes Minseok must have set out on the sink-counter, Minseok is sitting on the couch, a holovid playing above his lap. He turns it off when Jongdae enters the room. “How far along are you with establishing a line of negotiation with our friends in the Conference?”

“My friends, not yours,” Jongdae says calmly, “and I have a meeting set up with my superiors. That’s when I’ll drop the bombshell about being imprisoned and we get to see if they’ll still work with me or just leave me for the wolves.”

“If they don’t want you, Kim Jongdae, then neither of us win our game. What happens then?”

“I suppose we become enemies, then.”

“Aren’t we already?”

“Yes, but I’m not trying to kill you yet. Let’s keep it that way. I’d rather not have a murder on my hands.”

“You’ve already got plenty,” Minseok says.

Jongdae hums, then, he turns and leaves without a goodbye. He’d paid attention on the drive from Capital Tower. He can walk back.

***

“Is Minseok here?” Baekhyun asks upon waking up. They’re back at his flat, a pair of robotic nurses tending to his in-home care. Baëkhyun’s curled up at Baekhyun’s side—they hadn’t been able to separate the two of them. Even now, Baekhyun doesn’t seem keen on moving the clone, instead carding his fingers through Baëkhyun’s hair with all the gentleness of a lover.

Jongdae shakes his head. “He’s back at Paradigm.”

Baekhyun sighs, but he doesn’t appear hurt by the fact. If anything, it’s relief that softens his features.

“Can you tell us what happened?”

“Thugs that work for that boss we threatened,” Baekhyun says, “they happened to spot me while out on the street doing their typical intimidation muggings. Caught me off guard.”

“How’d you end up in that building?”

“Fought back and ran. They didn’t give too much chase. I think they figured I’d drop dead at some point, or at least, be slow enough that they wouldn’t struggle to find me again. I think they waited to get a go ahead from their boss to actually kill me, but at that point you two found me,” Baekhyun explains, running a hand through his hair. He’s quiet for a long moment, and then, “Thank you. For coming after me. For saving my life. I don’t want to die.”

What he leaves unspoken is that he does not want to die and then have Baëkhyun survive. He doesn’t want the clone to take his place as the _only_ Baekhyun. As the original.

“We didn’t want you to die,” Jongdae says carefully, “I think it would break him if you did. Just like I think _you’d_ break if he died.”

Baekhyun holds Jongdae’s gaze. It’s full of emotion, but Jongdae can decipher none of it.

Then, “If you escape this hell,” Baekhyun starts, “take me with you.” His eyes are glassy, look on the verge of tears even though his face remains stubbornly impassive. “Not him. Just… just _me_.”

Baëkhyun can’t even hear how hurt Baekhyun sounds admitting this. He’d break at the thought that Baekhyun considers him a part of this hell, but… he’d also break at the realization of just how much he hurts Baekhyun.

“I will. But, before then, please try and show him some affection. He asked me why you always grew sadder when he was around, why he couldn’t make you happy like I could. It’s hurting him. At least give him some fond memories to look back on if you’re going to abandon him.”

Baekhyun looks down at the sleeping clone, at the soft innocent flutter of his lashes, at the tear tracks stained to his cheeks. “I’ll try,” he says finally, his voice a mere whisper. “I promise.”

“Then, I promise too. I promise I’ll get us out.”

Baekhyun nods slowly, then, rests his head back again, eyes sliding shut, breathing evening out. In a few minutes, he’s asleep once more. Only then does Jongdae get up from his bedside and return to his laptop, his need to _succeed_ renewed with vigor.

***

His video meeting comes a few days later, and they call him when he’s in the middle of a chat with Baekhyun. He activates the video without shoo-ing Baekhyun from the room, figuring it’s best he be completely transparent. After all, he trusts Baekhyun now. For better or for worse.

And Baëkhyun is currently with Minseok. Had made the executive decision to leave while Baekhyun’s health was still volatile since he knew he had an extreme effect on Baekhyun’s emotions. It was a noble thing to do, and Baekhyun has only benefitted from it.

But, back to the video call.

His immediate superior is the first face he sees. He quickly gets greetings out of the way, but does not introduce Baekhyun for the time being. He’ll bring it up once it’s necessary.

He’s then introduced to his superior’s superiors, and beyond that, another panel of diplomatic and tactical heads of office. A few alien faces from around the Virgo Cluster, but mostly humans. Baekhyun had once mentioned that humans were like roaches, colonizing every aspect of the universe, and now that he’s seeing it all laid out, Jongdae _may_ just be inclined to agree.

“Kim Jongdae, it’s good to see a familiar face. We’ve been briefed of your work on Saffar and the events that followed your ordered evacuation. Seeing as this is a classified meeting, can you identify who is with you?”

Jongdae nods. “I’m with Byun Baekhyun of Dulcinea. He is the mercenary responsible for my recovery and current well-being.”

“We are familiar with him. Though… his clearance is a matter of debate.”

“He’s loyal to me,” Jongdae says, his tone brooking no argument. “He’ll be necessary if we are to best Xiumin at his own game,” Jongdae continues, using Minseok’s more famed name over his real one.

Quiet, and then, agreement. Jongdae’s immediate superior, Noh Yongmin, is the one to give his favor first, and slowly, the others agree in kind. With that out of the way, he can get to the heart of his argument.

“I think it would be… _wise_ to open up trade with Scylla’s caravans, possibly to the Andromedae cluster, since it is not as research rich as we had hoped.”

“Indeed, the Andromedae planets would provide good port-planets,” someone in the conference agrees. “But business with a criminal organization gives them a foothold in our public perception. Do we really want to afford Xiumin that power? Is it _worth_ that much all to bring back a single ambassador?”

“You stand to benefit from working with the mob, and you clearly are not opposed to it in the first place,” Jongdae says, “You work with Xiumin’s right hand men already to assassinate officials that cause problems for us. What’s different with trade? I am here in Dulcibella, the capital of the Delphini system and… by refusing to work with Scylla, you are missing out on some of the most advanced meditech I think I have ever witnessed.”

He continues, “You’ve suffered by playing a game of avoidance. You have no influence in the galaxies that Scylla has a presence in, just as they have little to no influence in the Virgo Conference. But, from my experience, there is little to nothing in the Virgo Clusters that Minseok cannot already find or have developed _better_ here in the Delphini and neighboring systems. So, what I suggest is, give him a small foothold in exchange for a foothold here in Dulcinea—his home base of operation.”

“How do you propose we do that?” Someone asks.

“Upon my return to Earth, I’ll complete a second round of training. Update myself on the policies of our world. I _have_ been cryogenically frozen for centuries. It’s only right that I reacclimate myself with our goals. And then, send a diplomatic envoy back into the Delphini System. A powerful one. One that can protect itself against the organized crime. One that can _work_ with them,” Jongdae says.

A hum. He’s got shaking and nodding heads across the board. It’s a mixed reaction.

“We cannot give him that forward base.”

“No, not permanently. That _would_ allow him too much of a foothold. You only need it until you’ve established an embassy here in the Delphini Cluster. Then, you drive him out. If we have a strong enough base here in Dulcinea, then he can do nothing. We get the ultimate benefit and he is forced to recalibrate. Count his losses and hit back, but by then, we’ll be ready for him.”

“You sound like you know this would work?”

Jongdae nods, “I know Minseok better than anyone. And my experience with him here in Dulcibella has only made my assumptions more concrete. He is _arrogant_. His _hubris_ is his tragic flaw. He cannot conceive that I will betray him in the end. He cannot conceive that _Baekhyun_ will betray him in the end. He is too cocky, too self-absorbed to see the trap despite how obvious it is.”

“I assume you would want to be part of the diplomatic envoy that establishes itself on Dulcinea,” the head of the Virgo Conference’s diplomatic relations asks.

“It would be the smartest option, don’t you think?”

“Will he not kill you for your betrayal?”

“We have a deal. He thinks he’ll win this game, but I was adamant that I would end up with the upper-hand. By the time I return to Dulcinea, he’ll confront the fact that I was right, that I _did,_ in fact, win, but he cannot hold my betrayal against me. We have a promise.”

“Promises can be broken,” Yongmin says warningly.

Jongdae shakes his head, “Were it anyone else, I might agree. But, Minseok… I _know_ him. A promise is a promise. A deal is a deal.”

Silence as everyone contemplates the idea. And then, “We’ll arrange for an official plan of action to be written and approved. Is it safe to send to you?”

“No.”

“Actually,” Baekhyun interjects. Everyone pauses. “I have a neutral third-party who can receive the message for us. Minseok wants him dead, so you can trust that the information won’t get to him.”

“Their contact information?”

“Dr. Zhang Yixing. I’ll have him contact you. He is loyal to me, but I won’t endanger him. If he chooses not to contact you, then we’ll simply trust that your plan of action is true to what we’ve said today.”

Agreement passes through the line. Baekhyun gets up then to call his “friend,” but Jongdae stays online and continues to go through the logistics with his superiors, hoping that everything will come together in the end.

By the time he hangs up, all he can feel is accomplished. Incredibly accomplished.

Baekhyun’s similarly elated. And, all of this feels familiar. Like that time after they successfully negotiated the deal with Maelstrom.

It must be fate that this time, when they kiss, they don’t pull away. Jongdae’s mindful of Baekhyun’s bandages, of his injuries, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still enjoy Baekhyun’s company.

They end up on the couch, tangled together lazily. It’s all… nice. Truly nice.

When the door opens a few hours later, though, when Jongdae’s still laying with his head pillowed on Baekhyun’s chest, his heart stutters to a halt. Baëkhyun stands at the entrance foyer simply _staring_ at them, the hurt _obvious_ on his face.

Until, “Baëkhyun, come here.” Baekhyun beckons him over with a lazy hand. And Jongdae’s shock seems just as palpable as Baëkhyun’s.

He walks over warily, as if worried Baekhyun will change his mind. He doesn’t, just pulls Baëkhyun onto the couch with them, readjusting so that no one’s laying on the more tender spots on his abdomen.

It puts Baëkhyun face to face with Jongdae, his grey eyes seeking Jongdae’s. Confusion swirls in them, but also… a startling degree of _happiness_. Of comfort. Like Baekhyun’s invitation to lay beside him means the world to Baëkhyun.

And perhaps, it does.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” He says a while later. Baëkhyun is still awake, though Baekhyun might not be. Everyone’s breathing is slow and even, their gazes slow-roving and unhurried. They’re all _relaxed_ , all amazingly in-tune with one another without… _hurting_ one another. Emotionally or otherwise.

Baëkhyun nods, his eyes sliding shut contentedly. Baekhyun’s hand continues to scratch at his scalp, gentle and comforting. “I always wanted this,” Baëkhyun whispers, like he’s afraid speaking too loudly will ruin the moment.

No one responds. If they did, they’d have to confront the fact that they’ve never shown Baëkhyun this sort of simple affection before. And that… hurts to think about.

When Baëkhyun finally falls asleep, and Jongdae is just a few minutes from following suit, Baekhyun speaks. His voice is hoarse, oddly emotional, and all he says is, “I’m sorry.”

***

Baekhyun heals quickly with the help of Dulcinean meditech. It’s actually quite ridiculous that he’s back to his typical standard of fitness in just a few days, but he is. Even more impressive is that, since that night Baëkhyun returned and they all slept on the couch together, there have been no fights.

They’ve gotten close. Baekhyun’s not going to throw away all of his trauma in a night. He might not ever. And Baëkhyun is unfortunately, a constant reminder of all of it. But, for what it’s worth, Baekhyun’s trying. _Hard_.

And Baëkhyun’s _basking_ in the affection he does receive. And, when Baekhyun’s not listening, he tells Jongdae that it feels real like this. Realer than it’s ever felt before, apart from a few times—but, in Baëkhyun’s words, those times had been sad, so even if Baëkhyun felt _needed_ then, he hadn’t felt _loved_.

Jongdae’s not sure he should be feeling loved _now_ , but, he’ll let Baëkhyun live in his fantasy as long as he can. After all, _his_ plot is going along with great ease. All he has left to ensure is that when Minseok arranges him an escort to Earth, that escort is Baekhyun, and _only_ Baekhyun.

Minseok’s gloating, though. Thinks he’s won. And Jongdae lets him. He relates, frustratedly, how they readily agreed to work with _criminals_. He really sells the idea that his people are not as morally-right as he would have hoped they were. Says how he’d have preferred they just tell him ‘no’ and be done with it all. Not agree to _work_ with Minseok. And Minseok eats it up, because his ego’s massive and feeding it will only _help_ Jongdae.

So, all in all, Jongdae’s been in high spirits, and Baekhyun’s been fluctuating (but less extremely than he typically would). It’s a success all around, if Jongdae were to be completely honest.

Jongdae’s now returning from his latest meeting with Minseok, and walking into the lounge, the first thing he sees is Baekhyun pressed up against the glass window, Baëkhyun behind him, draped over his back.

Both of them turn at the sound of Jongdae’s footsteps. Baekhyun’s face is flushed red, sweat dripping down his temple, down his neck. In the evening light, he looks beautiful, the dying silver catching the different curves of his body, of his muscle, all at once—like art.

Baëkhyun looks similarly gorgeous, especially in control like he is now. One hand teasing Baekhyun’s chest, the other dug into the skin at his hips. His eyes are dazed when they meet Jongdae’s, his breath visibly stuttering in his chest. “Join us?” He asks quietly, pulling Baekhyun up flush against his chest. For a bare moment, Baekhyun looks ready to reassess his position, like he’ll try and regain control of the situation now that Jongdae’s here watching him get broke down.

But then, he sags against Baëkhyun’s chest, his head lolling back, kissing idly at Baëkhyun’s jaw despite the awkward angle.

Jongdae hums. “Not at the window.”

“In the bed, then,” Baëkhyun asks. It’s almost cute, the way he seems to perk up at the mere possibility of Jongdae joining them.

“Perhaps. I think I’ll watch for a little bit,” Jongdae says quietly. He’d like to join in, but… it seems Baekhyun needs this. Needs to let Baëkhyun have him. Needs to cede control for _once_.

But, the familiarity with which Baëkhyun takes care of Baekhyun’s body once they’ve migrated to the bed suggests that this _isn’t_ the first time Baekhyun’s given up control. If anything, the only _new_ thing about this experience is that Jongdae’s _watching_ it happen.

That’s the only thing that seems to make Baekhyun shy.

“Don’t just watch,” he eventually says, sighing as Baëkhyun thrusts slow down, but grow longer, more powerful. Jongdae watches the way Baekhyun shakes from pleasure, from the effort of holding himself up. “Come join.”

So, he does, stripping out of his clothes and joining the other two on the bed. He reaches for Baëkhyun first—shows him the attention he thrives on. Kisses up his back and neck, distracting him from Baekhyun as he smooths his hands around to Baëkhyun’s front and teases his nipples, draws lines over his abs. All the while, he cooes sweet nothings. Encouragements, affirmations. Lets Baëkhyun know just how _beautiful_ he is. Just how well he takes care of Baekhyun.

And then, he flops down next to Baekhyun, looking up at Baëkhyun and nodding.

At Baëkhyun’s next thrust forward, Baekyun’s arm gives out. Instead of struggling to support himself, he lowers his chest down into the sheets, muffles his whines in the comforter. Jongdae reaches under him, tugs at his cock, and revels in the way Baekyun _mewls_ at the action. He’s disarmingly candid like this, with both Jongdae and Baëkhyun taking care of him. He cannot hide any of his emotions. His pleasure’s written in bold lettering across his face.

Baëkhyun comes first, stutter-fucking Baekhyun through it all, hunched down, face blank as pleasure causes him to short-circuit. And then, he flops to the side, disposing of his condom before he turns and wraps himself around Baekhyun, capturing Baekhyun’s mouth and whispering sweet, kind words into it between each kiss.

He passes Jongdae a condom from the night stand, watching as Jongdae rolls it over his dick and then positions back at Baekhyun’s hole.

He pushes in, surprised at how tight Baekhyun remains. And Baekhyun moans at first, but it’s a sharp sound, bordering on discomfort, so Jongdae slows down. “Do you need me to stretch you more?” He asks, leaning forward to press a kiss between Baekhyun’s shoulder-blades.

“No, no. Just… slow. Please,” Baekhyun says, working his hips back on Jongdae’s cock. They’re patient about this, despite the need that courses through the both of them. He smoothes his hands up Baekhyun’s sides reverently, waiting for the moment he says everything’s all right.

It comes in time, and Jongdae flush with Baekhyun’s ass the moment it does. They moan in tandem, and, beside them, Baëkhyun moans as well, his eyes focused on Baekhyun’s face before Baekhyun buries it back in the sheets, hiding from view.

Jongdae thrusts slowly at first, lets everything build up. And then he hits Baekhyun’s sweet spot, and the moan Baekhyun lets free is so deep and rumbly that Jongdae can’t help but want to hear it again.

“Faster,” Baekhyun murmurs, and Jongdae speeds up. It almost seems like too much for a moment, Baekhyun’s hands clenching in the sheets like he needs something to ground himself. He’s panting, whining, and underneath it all, laugh breathlessly. He’s elated.

Baëkhyun grabs his hand, squeezes. And Baekhyun relaxes at that, seems to trust that he’s in good hands. And then, he becomes pliant.

Jongdae pulls out a few minutes later, snorting at the whine Baekhyun lets out. “I was close,” he says.

“It’ll be nice this way,” Jongdae placates, helping him onto his back and pushing on the back of his knees until his legs are folded up towards his chest. At this angle, Baëkhyun’s able to tease Baekhyun’s chest, already starting a litany of moans and whimpers, and Jongdae’s able to see and kiss him like Baekhyun _ought_ to be kissed.

Baekhyun’s gaze is a little too honest when Jongdae leans down to kiss him. It’s too open, too affectionate. It’s the look of someone who trusts him wholly. And, he’s not quite when that development occurred, but… he’s _glad_ it did. Glad he _reciprocates_ it.

He kisses Baekhyun as he pushes back into his hole. Swallows the moan Baekhyun sighs out. The angle’s more awkward than the first one, but their senses feel more heightened, more intimate.

Baëkhyun kisses Baekhyun’s jaw, searching for an in. So, Jongdae pulls back and lets Baëkhyun kiss him properly. Watches with dark, hungry eyes as he brings Baekhyun to his climax. He comes untouched, though Baëkhyun quickly drops a hand to his cock to prolong the waves of pleasure radiating up his body.

His hole flutters around Jongdae’s cock, squeezing just right, and he spills inside the condom, his own whine punching through the air.

They laugh breathlessly after that, cleaning one another up and then falling into bed. Baekhyun wraps his arms around Baëkhyun, and Jongdae lies pressed to Baekhyun’s back, content, happy.

***

“Are you prepared for the way the bond’s going to hurt once you leave?” Jongdae asks. He’s packing a small bag of clothes. Minseok’s just approved he and Baekhyun to return to Earth, seeing as his ships have been allowed to land and begin establishing ports on the planets in the Andromedae system already. He thinks he’s won, and he thinks that by sending Baekhyun with Jongdae, he’ll be continuing to put pressure on the displaced ambassador.

But the fact is, Minseok’s just sent them both to freedom. And, in a few years, they’ll return as winners, and Minseok will have to let all of their history go in favor of meeting them anew. Which Jongdae has a plan for as well.

Baekhyun looks up. He’s sat on the bed, watching Jongdae pack. He keeps a bags of clothes all over the place in order to avoid packing like this. “I’ll get over it,” he says quietly.

“I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as you think it is. Baëkhyun may not be with us physically, but he’s still going to be… _with_ us. He’s still going to remind you of his presence,” Jongdae reasons.

Baekhyun’s silent. Then, “I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing? I… it hurt, yeah, to know he exists, but. I’m still concerned about his well-being. I’m still interested in knowing he’s okay. So, maybe the bond isn’t going to be all that bad?”

“It’s still going to hurt, though,” Jongdae reiterates. “Baëkhyun _needs_ to be loved by you. I don’t know if you noticed but… he’s only truly at peace when you accept him. I’ve been kind to him, I’ve been affectionate with him, but it’s only _you_ that puts everything at ease. When he realizes you’ve abandoned him, it’s going to hurt.”

“He’ll have to learn to cope,” Baekhyun says. “We’re strong enough to cope. I know.” From experience, of course. He’s been coping (badly) for years. What’s a few years for Baëkhyun? He _should_ , if he’s like Baekhyun, be able to handle it to some capacity.

Jongdae nods. He’s obviously not convincing Baekhyun of anything at this point—really, he isn’t even sure he _was_ trying to convince him. He’s really just… warning him. Trying to prepare him for what it’s going to be like once they cut all contact.

“Then, we’re ready? For freedom?”

Baekhyun grins, and though it’s bittersweet, Jongdae knows he needed this. Jongdae needs this. Needs to be home. Needs to return. Not now, but in time.

***

They cut contact the very second the enter the Milky Way Galaxy. As home to humanity, it is easily the most central collection of defensive power in the entire Virgo Conference. Jongdae sends his last message: “I will win,” and then destroys all of the tracking systems on their ship. It is still a Scyllan vessel, so Jongdae doesn’t doubt that Minseok has other, hidden tracking systems available, but they are… for all intents and purposes, out of his reach.

And, it’s liberating. Even more so because Baekhyun does not panic now that he’s a fugitive of Minseok’s cause. He’s surprisingly steadfast, has obviously given this choice great thought. Jongdae respects him for that.

He immediately works to reestablish communications with his superiors on Earth, succeeding after a day or two of trial. But, at the end of the second day, Baëkhyun must be told of their betrayal. It happens while he and Baekhyun are curled up in a sleeping pod, hair still dampened by sweat, cheeks still flushed with affection.

It’s not something that grows in intensity. It’s not gradual. It’s like a punch to the chest. Baekhyun pushes Jongdae away from him, desperately trying to make space for himself. He claws at the pod’s cover, gasping for air like he’s suffocating. It is a winding sort of pain, the type that drags away all of your air and replaces it with suffering and only that.

Jongdae opens the pod, sitting up and giving Baekhyun the space he obviously needs.

He _contorts_ , gasping for breath, turning his nails towards himself rather than the space around him. He hugs himself, clutching at his back, long fingers reaching all the way around to dig into his spine with savage brutality. He rakes long lines through his skin, as if causing _physical_ pain will alleviate the emotional pain.

Jongdae grabs at his wrists then, forces his hands away from himself before he can hurt himself too badly. “Hyun-ah, it’s going to be all right. I told you it would hurt. You knew it would. It’ll stop eventually,” he tries, offering whatever comfort he can. He resituates himself, pulling Baekhyun up into his lap, cradling his head to his chest.

“I didn’t think…” Baekhyun trails off, his voice cracking into a whine. He buries his head more deeply into Jongdae’s embrace. His body _shivers_. It’s a physical reaction to an unimaginable emotional pain. It’s _shock_. He’s body doesn’t understand _how_ to handle this distress.

“I know you didn’t,” Jongdae says quietly, carding his fingers through Baekhyun’s hair, trying as best he can to comfort him. “I know you didn’t think it would hurt like this.”

They both fall silent as Baekhyun begins to cry, a dry, empty, sobbing sound that breaks Jongdae’s heart. He slumps against Jongdae, all of his strength leaving him in a wave.

Baekhyun breaks the quiet eventually, “It’s worse,” he says. And, for a second, Jongdae wonders what it’s worse than. Then, he realizes. It’s worse than how Baekhyun felt when Baëkhyun was around him. Worse than that pain.

“I’m sorry,” he says sympathetically. “I’m sorry you have to hurt.”

Quiet.

“I’m sorry, too, that I’m like this,” Baekhyun says simply. They fall back into an uneasy silence until finally, Baekhyun slips into a tired, restless sleep. But Jongdae remains awake. Awake and profoundly sad.


	3. Chapter 3

“Yongmin, it’s good to see you again,” Jongdae says after their shuttle is finally guided to dock. His superior, really, his friend at this point, grins and pulls him into a hug. A welcome home after years missing. And then, his gaze turns to Baekhyun, who stands secondary to the scene, watching them.

He bows once, “You must be Baekhyun, then. We’ve probably worked together under aliases.”

“Perhaps,” Baekhyun agrees, returning the bow with a nod of his head. On Earth, he looks more ethereal. It’s because of the change in sunlight, which, unlike on Dulcinea, is golden here. It all affects his body differently, makes him seem almost translucent, akin to some deep-sea fish. In fact, he looks quite like Jongdae might imagine a siren would look, with a shimmery sheen highlighting his skin and distinctly cooler skin tones. “We won’t be working together in the future,” he says calmly.

Yongmin nods. He doesn’t hear the bitterness in Baekhyun’s voice. The reminder that Baekhyun _was_ what he was. A mercenary. A murderer. “And that’s all well and good,” Yongmin says, turning back to Jongdae. “Come, now. We have to renew all of your credentials and set you up to return to training.”

“Where will my training take place, on Antares again?”

“No, we’ve got a school here on Earth, now. In fact, it’s in Seoul, so you’ll be able to stay close to home.”

Jongdae sighs in relief. He’d like to stay with Baekhyun while they both readjust, and was hoping he wouldn’t have to leave Baekhyun alone on Earth’s surface. Worried that he could have been taken advantage of by government officials, or… simply that he’d return to Minseok’s side of the board—resume playing for the other team.

Yongmin leads them through the docking checkpoints. There are a number of them, all of which are meant for commercial flights, so they bypass all of them, instead walking to the high-security lines and scanners. They are both fingerprinted, which Baekhyun doesn’t put up any argument to (surprisingly), and photographed. While IDs are printed for the both of them, Baekhyun looks around, catching the curious stares of the humans working here in the airport.

“You don’t have many aliens here,” he observes.

Yongmin cocks his head. “We have aliens native to our neighboring systems, but you’re right. We have very few of your kind here. There is Oh Sehun, though,” he begins to explain.

“Yes, he’s half Dulci,” Baekhyun says. “I know.” He continues to look around. “All of you are from warmer stars. And you’re younger.”

“The meditech here is not as advanced,” Jongdae explains, “Humans have yet to reach their full life expectancy potential even now. Many of our neighbors are the same.”

Baekhyun nods, “That must be why humans are so proud. They have so little time to achieve the world.”

“Probably so,” Jongdae agrees. Minseok’s always trying to cheat death, and Jongdae’s cheated it once. It’ll still be seventy years before his body begins to break down. Baekhyun’s right, maybe their shorter life span _does_ motivate them. “I think anyone who has a smaller chance of survival strives to achieve. You did.” Baekhyun comes from poverty, and, prior to Baëkhyun’s creation, he was a model citizen. He worked his way to the top. Likely because he came from nothing, where dreams were nearly unattainable.

Their IDs are delivered to them, disrupting their thoughts. The security official motions for them to follow them through another check-point. There, they’re tested for a number of illnesses. Baekhyun is up to date on every vaccine the officials have available. Jongdae is very much not. So, he sits through his vaccinations and another round of disinfectant. It’s dangerous to chance introducing a foreign bacteria into their environment. Could dismantle their whole world order if they did.

But, after that, they’re free to go. Yongmin drops them off at Jongdae’s old apartment building in Hannam-dong. For a while, Baekhyun just stands outside of it, staring up at it. Jongdae lets him. “It’s not… Capital Tower. Or Paradigm.”

“No, but it’s nice,” Baekhyun says, “reminds me of my first apartment after I got signed. I like it,” and he follows Jongdae inside.

They’ve only been inside for a few minutes—Baekhyun’s only just finished settling in—when Jongdae’s holocomm rings. He accepts the call, and immediately, two faces are being projected into the air right above the device. Two familiar faces.

Baekhyun remains standing off to the side, watching the exchange. His body’s rigid. He doesn’t seem to be able to handle confronting Baëkhyun right now. Doesn’t seem willing.

Because Baëkhyun is there, alongside Minseok. Both of them look frighteningly cold, strikingly powerful. Minseok sits with his arm draped around Baëkhyun, displaying the epitome of possessiveness. And Baëkhyun preens under the attention—could be mistaken for being just fine, if it weren’t for the smudged eyeliner beneath his eyes and the hateful cant of his lips.

“I believe I won. So, tell me why you’re breaking our deal,” Minseok says by way of greeting. “I thought you became mine in that case, no?”

Jongdae rolls his eyes, “I’m still playing. And, I’m winning.”

“I don’t think so. My first shipment of Arion drugs arrives in Andromedae in… a week’s time? It’s only a matter of time before Earth is addicted. I’ll become as great an influence as anyone else.”

“If you think you’ll be able to traffic drugs that easily…” Jongdae trails off. “I mean, come on. The officials know exactly what they were getting into letting you set up your ports. They’ll be checking every one of your shipments _thoroughly_. You’ll get some through, sure, but I doubt it’s the amount you’re hoping to.”

Minseok hums noncommittally. “If that’s what you think. But… back to your game. Please do explain how exactly you’re winning?”

Jongdae only laughs, “You’ll have to wait and see, no? What’s the reason for the call, Minseok? Let’s get to the point.”

“Your names are at the top of a hit list. I’m giving you the chance to… reconsider your traitorous leanings.”

“No,” Jongdae and Baekhyun say at the same time. And though Baekhyun’s voice is muffled by distance, Baëkhyun catches it. His eyes widen and for a split second, the only expression on his face is _longing_.

“Was that Baekhyun?” He asks on impulse. But Baekhyun says nothing in response, and so Jongdae will neither confirm nor deny Baëkhyun’s suspicions.

He sighs, “We’ll keep an eye out for your hitmen. In the meantime, I’d prefer you not contact us, Kim Minseok. And be prepared. The next time we speak, you’ll know I’ve won. It’ll be as clear as day.” And he hangs up the comm. Silence sits over them as thick as fog.

Then, Baekhyun sighs, “I just want to forget it all. Want to move on from it all. I want to be my own person again.”

“You can do that. It’s going to be nearly impossible for him to get a foothold here. These things take time, and the Virgo Conference has a lot more influence than he,” Jongdae turns and strides over to Baekhyun, settling his hands on his hips, pressing their foreheads together. “He’s all bark, no bite. You and Baëkhyun were his swords and now… well, I doubt he’ll be able to send anyone as skilled as you. And he’d never risk losing Baëkhyun too.”

Baekhyun nods, “You’re right. I’m just… you want to return. What do we do then?”

“We return on a blank slate. If _we_ return. If you want to stay here. You can. I’d never stop you. But, you _are_ Dulcinean. And I think you’ll miss home eventually.”

***

Jongdae becomes quite popular amongst his classmates. He’s required to retake all eight years of his foreign policy track—that designed for interplanetary relations—as well as his general history and language requirements, among a number of other practicals. But, the fact that he’s been through the classes before (with much of the same general theory), is something exceptionally interesting to the other, bright-eyed kids looking to go into interplanetary relations.

His experiences on Saffar, especially since it was hardship assignment, provide a good background from which to work off in class. He excels, because he experienced a worse case scenario, when he was responsible for the lives of an entire colony and then required to make the decisions imperative to saving as many lives as he could. He’s able to relate his experiences and learn how protocol has changed for today.

But, beyond his typical classes, he’s also participating in the design and creation of a Delphini Diplomacy track. Baekhyun offers advices at times, tells him what should be focused on—he says a cultural victory will be necessary in the foreign world (which adopts styles, music, and art like a second skin), they have too much manpower for the Virgo Conference to ever _attempt_ to colonize it—and what can be left alone. He also begins to teach Jongdae Dulcinea’s language. He speaks a slangier Rocinante accent, but, given the very limited resources they have for that side of the universe, it’s better than nothing.

Thankfully, the school eventually acquires a Dulcinean translator, one who typically translates music tracks and other facets of Dulcinean society that _do_ end up reaching Earth. They take over classes at the school, and Baekhyun leaves Jongdae to learn from them and practice with him.

Tonight, Jongdae intends to come home and practice with Baekhyun, but, upon entering the apartment, he realizes it is empty. Cold and empty.

His heart drops.

The first thought that comes to mind is that Baekhyun never did leave Minseok behind. That Baekhyun’s betrayed him. But, that thought is unsubstantiated and honestly doesn’t give Baekhyun enough credit. So, Jongdae’s next thought is that Baekhyun’s simply _out_. Exploring maybe.

After all, he’d _encouraged_ Baekhyun get out and see what Seoul was really like. It has a similarity to Dulcibella, but, again, it’s not as alarmingly _big_ , not as _loud_ as Dulcibella is.

He walks back down to the street and takes a look up and down, judging which way Baekhyun might have gone. It doesn’t seem like Baekhyun would go very far. He’s too cautious to throw himself into a completely new environment with no good understanding of it, especially when he stands out like he does.

Or rather, at night, in the silver light of the moon, Baekhyun probably looks just as human as anyone else. After all, white light is his natural environment. He’d look good on stage, here, with spotlights shining onto him.

On that thought, he catches the sound of an all too familiar voice. It’s coming from an open door. A bar, it looks like. A jazz bar? He walks inside, thankful to find an empty seat at the bar. Because, he’s right. Baekhyun _is_ here, and he’s _singing_. Baekhyun’s sat in the little wing left clear for the band to set up. He’s on a piano bench, his thin, delicate, musician’s hands playing across the keys with playful familiarity.

He’s not singing in Common—and he definitely doesn’t know Korean—but rather, in his native tongue. The Rocinante accent is much more pronounced like this, when he’s singing. It gives his voice a tumbly, rasping cadence. Something thick and heady like smoke. Something smooth as wine.

He’s charmed the patrons, even though they don’t speak his language and he doesn’t speak theirs. Dulcinean music _is_ popular here on Earth, though, so Jongdae really shouldn’t be surprised. He wonders if anyone here recognizes Baekhyun. If his fame has reached all the way out here. But, it seems unlikely.

And for some reason, that makes Jongdae’s heart all the warmer.

Baekhyun closes out his song and, laughing, gets up from the piano bench, grinning and nodding to the musicians that congratulate him, thank him for playing, invite him to play again some other night. It’s all very nice. It’s even nicer when Baekhyun’s eyes flit over the crowd and link with his.

He ends up sat next to Jongdae, both of them listening to the regular band play while Jongdae introduces Baekhyun to a menu of distinctly Earthen drinks. And he practices what he’d learned in class, doing his best to hold a conversation up in Baekhyun’s native tongue. He makes his mistakes, but Baekhyun looks hopelessly charmed anyways. Corrects him with a gentle hand. A kind heart.

When they return home, they’re riding a buzz. A love buzz, if you were to ask Jongdae. And they fall into bed easily. Their hands don’t roam too much, but they kiss and tell each other their hopes and dreams and everything that’s right with the world.

Jongdae falls asleep with a smile on his face.

In the morning, he’s still residually happy. Baekhyun is a little quieter, but not in that brooding way that was more common back before they got to Earth. Just, a simple neutral sort of being. He’s actually quite a homebody, surprisingly adept at navigating the home. He’s neat, he’s put together, and he prioritizes comfort above all. It makes him a good roommate in Jongdae’s opinion.

“You seem hard at thought,” Baekhyun says, looking up from the pot of water he’s bringing to a boil. Jongdae can spot some ingredients for a soup, and an open recipe book, on the counter. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing much,” Jongdae says. “Just thinking about how domestic this is. How nice it is. Didn’t really expect it from you.”

“What did you expect?” Baekhyun asks, cocking his head. His silver hair flops into his eyes endearingly.

Jongdae hums, “I think I thought you’d be more… active? I’m not sure. I think, when I think of celebrity performer, and that’s what you were prior to Minseok’s influence, I think of someone who lives the high-life, full of parties and other socials.”

“I hardly know anyone here,” Baekhyun says with an arched brow. “And back then… I preferred to play my games one on one. Maybe the occasional party, sure, but I’ve always preferred to be home.”

“I think it suits you,” Jongdae says. “You seem at ease like this. Happy.”

Baekhyun laughs under his breath. “I am happy like this.” He looks out, gazing out of the window just past Jongdae. “I like Earth. It’s arrogant, fast-paced, and corrosive looking at it from the outside, but… I don’t know. Moments like last night, the little things, the little pockets of _life_ feel so much more real than anything in Dulcibella.”

“Some of it’s probably just the novelty of this place. I think you’re a bit jaded about Dulcibella, personally,” Jongdae counters easily. “Because it was the same for me in Dulcibella. Very big, but, you showed me the small, life-like parts about the city. I actually quite miss it.”

Baekhyun nods, “I miss it too, in a… old way. I miss what I had. Feel like I know better now than I did when I first signed up for fame. I’d like to get another chance.”

Jongdae would like to give him another chance, but, he’s not sure how he’d do it. So, without any advice to offer, he begins to tell Baekhyun about his class schedule for the day and the plans he’s going to make for dinner.

***

> **KTAE 9:30AM**
> 
> I’ve gotten with a new team of lawyers. We’ve been pouring over your original contract, reading _all_ of the fine print. We think we’ve got a lead. Call soon.

Jongdae’s out at class, leaving Baekhyun alone when he receives the text. He immediately calls Taeyeon back. It’s like fate. Just a week ago, he’d been telling Jongdae he’d like to go back to it—music—if he didn’t have the same restrictions, same expectations as the company would like him to live by.

“I got your text,” he says.

“I figured. Now listen, this is what we found…” and she begins to pour over a portion of his contract. He knows all of the details by heart at this point. He’d read it _thousands_ of times trying to figure out a way to free his image completely—to stop the holo-tours, to sue for the cloning incident—but he’d never found a loophole. What Taeyeon describes is not a loophole, though, it’s an obscure illegality.

She spends _hours_ explaining it to him. Long enough that when Jongdae returns home at the end of the day, Baekhyun is still on the phone, still scrawling notes on pieces of scrap-paper he’d found lying around the apartment.

Jongdae comes to stand next to him, reading the papers curiously. He’s not as familiar with Baekhyun’s messy scrawl, nor is he good enough at Saccharo (the Dulcinean language) to get the full entirety of the breakthrough Baekhyun and his friends have made, but he gets the gist. Recognizes _enough_ words that he’s able to leech off of Baekhyun’s excitement.

Later that night, he watches as Baekhyun composes a hefty letter—written with the help of the team still talking to him over the comm—to his company. Watches Baekhyun pour over the personal aspect of the letter (it will be released publically, in an effort to pressure his contract holders), and then, watches as he sends it off to the lawyers to refine and publish.

After it all, he sags in his chair, but the smile on his face is the most real one Jongdae’s ever seen him smile.

Jongdae doesn’t ask. Not tonight. He’ll wait to see how things pan out.

And, while things are going well for Baekhyun, they’re going equally well for Jongdae. He’s been accelerated in his classes as his instructors finally realize just how adept he still is with all of his training. He’d been _frozen_ in stasis for centuries, not traveling the world. The memories are still quite fresh. Now, they’re just working on updating him.

The day after Baekhyun sends off his letter, Jongdae shows up to the school to get to work on designing the Delphini Program. His current task is readying the forward embassy. Those that will be establishing themselves on Dulcinea, who will be preparing for the moment Jongdae comes to join them and Minseok is thrust out of the Virgo Conference once more.

It’s slow going, designing the program, but, it’s working. He’s got a good team of students learning from him. He hand-picked them with the help of one of his instructors, using his knowledge of the planet, of the people, to suggest whose personalities would work best on the eccentric planet.

At the same time, they’re in discussions and negotiations with Dulcinea’s government. As an interplanetary trading hub, the government is a panel of faces from across the Delphini star clusters. Jongdae doesn’t recognize any of them, but he’s able to charm them with his knowledge of their planets. He’s able to woo them with the chance to get their crime problem under control.

Because really, that’s what they’re offering. In addition to a more steadfast cultural exchange, the Virgo Conference intends to make a presence for itself in the Delphini Cluster and to intimidate Minseok back to craftier ways of life. Push him back underground, rather than letting him sit at the top of the world like he rules it. For the Dulcinean Panel, this is especially desired. Minseok and his organization Scylla, amounts for the majority of crime in their cities, on their planets. They’d readily accept putting him in check.

And Jongdae happens to know him, and his business fairly well. So, really, he’s just setting himself up for success, and the Dulcinean Panel is smart enough to recognize it.

He and Baekhyun begin to return home in good moods nearly always. Baekhyun continues to have success with his contract lawsuit and Jongdae continues to have success with his program.

“You’ve always said you were going to win, you know,” Baekhyun says one evening, while they’re both sitting on the balcony and looking out on the flickering city lights. “But, I think I only started to believe you now.”

Jongdae nods, “I think I knew once Minseok cleared us to return to Earth, but I think it’s only now that I’ve really started to trust myself.” He’s quiet, and then sighs happily. “It’ll still be a few years, but… things are progressing nicely.”

Baekhyun laughs, but the sound gets choked off halfway out of his mouth. Jongdae glances over, and notices that his expression’s become more closed off, more reserved.

“Baëkhyun,” Baekhyun says, by way of explanation. Jongdae hums, nodding in acknowledgement. “He’s… I feel like every day he hurts a little more. It doesn’t seem to abate. It’s always there, an ache in our chests, but… it worsens. Like now.”

“That’s what it was like for you, no?” Jongdae asks. He always treads lightly when talking about Baëkhyun, but recently, Baekhyun’s seemed more open to conversation about him than ever before. Seems to finally understand what it must have felt like for Baëkhyun all those years.

“It’s not hateful,” Baekhyun says. “It’s just… deeply lonely. It makes me regret leaving him. He really never was meant to be away from me.”

“Perhaps not.”

“No, I mean… we really aren’t meant to be apart. Yixing, he created Baëkhyun. His theory was to create a completely secondary body for my single consciousness. Not… two consciousnesses. If that makes sense? But he did, and we’ve always been… dependent on one another, to some degree. Yixing always suggested that I not stray too far from Baëkhyun.”

Jongdae mulls over his words. “You told me once that you were afraid because he could replace you. Anyone could replace you with him.”

Baekhyun flinches at his words. They still hurt him. He’s still hurt by that fact.

“But, did you ever think that you are irreplaceable to him? When you went unconscious and nearly died… he couldn’t feel you. Couldn’t feel your bond. And he didn’t think for a moment that he was _free_ , or that it was his time to take your place… he thought that you needed to be saved.”

Everything is silent, even the night. And then, Baekhyun begins to cry. It’s a hollow sound, a regretful sound.

Jongdae lets him cry. He needs it.

***

Seven years later, Jongdae’s walking off of the Dulcinean, government docks. He’s alone. Baekhyun had returned to Dulcibella a few weeks earlier with an Earth-side managementand production team.

Minseok’s waiting at the base of the stairs, his expression unreadable. He’s alone. Baekhyun must have reconvened with Baëkhyun already. “You won,” he says—the first thing out of his mouth. It’s almost bitter. _Almost_. Hidden beneath all the bitterness, there’s a sort of mischief that’s uniquely Minseok’s.

“Figured you needed a change of decorum. Are you ready to start anew?” He strides along the landing strip. Minseok paces him, easily keeping in step.

“And what exactly is _new_ for us?”

Jongdae grins. “Well, Baekhyun and Baëkhyun will be doing their thing. I strongly suspect they’ll be debuting _together_ soon.”

“Oh?” Minseok humors. “I’m sure they’ll grow to be quite popular.”

“Quite. As for us… you’ve just lost your two best assassins, and your most expensive contraband ports. It seems you’ll have to disappear, lick your wounds a bit, and then work on climbing that power structure once more, no?”

Minseok hums, “Sounds about right. And you? You become the new Ambassador for the Conference here in Dulcinea. Lover of Dulcibella’s most beloved pop star. You’ll be quite popular here. The Virgo Conference will be gaining a lot from this embassy, hm?”

“Indeed. Though, I’ll be working in the background. Mostly helping to keep the nearby criminal organizations in check. Working with them when needed. After all, how many ambassadors are willing to play that game of morals—and smart enough to do so and survive.”

“Very few, I’d think, are smart enough to survive.”

Jongdae has a car waiting for him. It’s not even a government vehicle, rather, it’s Baekhyun’s personal vehicle. With his loyal, personal driver waiting inside. Jongdae opens the door and puts in his bag, but remains outside, where he and Minseok stand face to face, unwavering gaze to unwavering gaze.

“We’re not friends.”

“No,” Jongdae agrees. “I’m never going to stoop to your level of criminality. But… I hope you reconsider our relationships. We stand to learn a great deal from one another. We stand to gain a great deal from one another. The Virgo Conference is going to continue to expand, as I assume you will. We _can_ and likely _will_ have to work together at times.”

He gets in the car, but keeps the door propped open a moment longer. “Don’t be a stranger, Minseok. Do let me know when you’d like to play another game—we’re a good challenge for one another.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I absolutely have plans to write another companion for this… yes absolutely. Am I going to start writing it now? Yeah, probably, quarantine’s got me fucked up. But, in the mean time, here’s a few little closing notes:
> 
> • Baekhyun and Baëkhyun do re-debut (under an Earth-side distribution company) as a duo named NARCISSUS after the Greek myth of the man who fell in love with his own reflection (destructively so, but, hey, what’s 2Baek if it’s not a little destructive. I felt it was a good match!)
> 
> • Minseok’s forced to move his operations back underground, and makes it something of a game with Jongdae to see just how much he can get away with right under Jongdae’s nose. He eventually breaks back into business on Earth, but it’s not as sweet a victory as it could have been.
> 
> • Jongdae and the Virgo Conference benefit a lot from 2Baek’s influence in the Delphini Cluster because of the duo’s ties to Earth-side business as well as their personal ties to Jongdae himself. 
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed reading, please do let me know via a comment, kudos, or hell, even send me a tweet! You can find me on my [writing twitter](https://twitter.com/sophluorescent) OR my [personal twitter!](https://twitter.com/syzygybbh)
> 
> Want to share head-canons or are too shy to leave a comment, i have a [curiouscat](https://t.co/KYC8gCVmPh?amp=1) !

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think via comments/kudos!


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